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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24481312">Bring Him to His Knees</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musyc/pseuds/Musyc'>Musyc</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Auror Draco Malfoy, Aurors, Because I am shameless, Big Dick Draco, Canon and extra-canon mixed as I please, Case Fic, Draco Malfoy &amp; Harry Potter Friendship, Draco Malfoy &amp; Pansy Parkinson Friendship, Draco Malfoy Has a Large Cock, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Head Auror Harry Potter, Hermione Granger &amp; Pansy Parkinson Friendship, Hickeys and Lovebites, Inappropriate Use of Malfoy Signet Ring, Marking, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Mutually Unrequited, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Britpicked, Past Draco Malfoy/Pansy Parkinson, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Psychological Trauma, Public Sex, Secondary Harry Potter/Pansy Parkinson, Sex Club, Size Difference, Size Kink, Tags May Change, Undercover, Undercover as a Couple, idiots to lovers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 07:00:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>228,041</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24481312</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musyc/pseuds/Musyc</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco is on the case of a murderer, but to investigate, he needs a fake relationship - and a kink club play partner. When Hermione volunteers to take the role, both do their best to maintain the lie without letting each other know the truth: neither of them are acting.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4387</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9093</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Dramione Hits, Dramione I'm Obsessed With, Good Girl Hermione, Next Dramione to Read, Promising Dramione WIPs, The High Ground, Uncompleted Works, WIPs I’m desperate for!, dm fanfics, dramione i've read, dramione wips i need to read, fanfics tbr for the podcast</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">

        <li>
          Translation into Español available: 
            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28884885">Ponlo de Rodillas</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paandreablack/pseuds/Paandreablack">Paandreablack</a>
        </li>


    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In a cemetery outside the wizarding community of Betws-yn-Rhos, the naked corpse lay on her back, arms sprawled out, red hair spread around her. The yellow glimmer of the protective crime scene bubble gave her skin a sallow tint. Techs bustling around the scene moved back as Draco opened the bubble with a wave of his hand and stepped inside. He closed the bubble and went straight to the body, a quick tug at his trouser legs pulling the material up as he crouched beside the corpse.</p><p>Draco lifted her wrist with the tip of his wand, tilting his head to examine her. Around her body, almost etched into her skin, were a series of marks. The imprints ran from her hips up to her shoulders in an elaborate open-weave pattern. Another, narrower, set wrapped around her biceps and wrists. One more, very thin, set of marks circled her neck, just above a silver necklace and a pendant in the shape of a long-stemmed, thorned rose.</p><p>Draco set her hand down and twisted to speak over his shoulder. "When was she found?"</p><p>"This morning," Harry said from behind a floating, legless table several feet away. He made a note on a form and scratched his nose with the end of his pen. "About four. Bakery clerk spotted her on his way to work."</p><p>"Does she have it?" Draco asked without moving.</p><p>Harry gritted his teeth and turned his attention to the form, busily filling it out.</p><p>"Potter." Draco looked back down at the body. He knew only too well that Harry wasn't prone to fidgeting, unless there was something he was trying to avoid saying. The steady focus on a piece of paperwork, the natural enemy of Head Auror Harry James Potter, was a clear indicator of something to avoid. "Does she have it?"</p><p>Harry let out a long, slow breath and nodded once. "Inside of her right thigh."</p><p>Draco cast a quick charm over his hands, thin black gloves forming. He put his wand away and gently took the woman's knee in both hands. He eased her legs apart, fingers sliding up the inside of her thigh to twist her skin to his view. High on her thigh was a small bruise surrounding three lines cut deep into her flesh, the Roman numeral III. Draco closed his eyes. "Three."</p><p>"Yeah," Harry said. His long robes rustled as he moved to stand beside the body next to Draco. "We need you to confirm the signature."</p><p>Draco muttered a soft curse. "Ridiculous to go through this every time, you know. We have enough to confirm without this. Matching abrasions on arms and neck, matching bruise and cuts on inner thigh, matching necklace."</p><p>"And if—when we catch this bastard, I don't want a single shred of possibility that he'll get a solicitor who can claim we weren't fully diligent. I want confirmation on every part of the signature. Do it, Malfoy."</p><p>Draco settled his feet in place and leaned over the woman, one hand in the dirt beside her for balance. He took a deep breath through his nose. He held the air in his lungs, eyes closed as he concentrated.</p><p>
  <i>The trees in the woods behind the Manor, evergreens wet with rain, fallen cones crunching under his boots, gray-green needles tugging at his hair. Black bark rough against his wet cheek, the doleful call of a nightbird in the distance.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Thick books, shelved and stacked, spines cracked through centuries of use. A long sofa tufted with buttons. Standing still in front of a desk, eyes locked on the green blotter precisely placed in the center of the polished surface. Father's stern voice. A duty. A responsibility. An assignment. A clench of his heart.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Inkstains on his fingers. Plans formed, discarded, reconsidered. A quick sketch of a cabinet, a single word circled in jagged, repetitive lines. <span class="u">Sisters</span>. Staring dry-eyed into flames, watching parchment burn.</i>
</p><p>Draco exhaled sharply and nodded, pinching his nostrils closed. "Cedar, leather, and ashes. Confirmed. It's our man." Draco gently closed the woman's legs and stood, stripping the gloves off and crushing them into his palm to dissolve into smoke. "You know what this means, Potter."</p><p>Harry hissed something under his breath. "We officially have a serial killer."</p><p>Draco gestured to the techs to come over and resume their work. He looked the body over one more time, then hid a sigh and went to the floating table with Harry, grabbing his own form out of the waterproof envelope. Harry handed him a Muggle pen, the click-button sticky and blue ink staining the barrel.</p><p>Draco made a face as he gingerly took the pen.</p><p>"Don't even start," Harry said without looking up from his notes. "You know how many inkwells got knocked over at scenes before we switched to these. We've saved a thousand Galleons in replacement forms the past six months alone. Zabini probably weeps all over you because of it."</p><p>"It's not the <em>pen</em> itself," Draco said. "It's the condition of this one. Was it in a terrible accident? Should I be filling out a form for it? Inform its next of kin of its sad demise?" </p><p>Harry snorted. "Bring your own if you're that concerned. I know you have a dozen Montblancs in the office."</p><p>"I do. And I'm not losing those at a crime scene, thanks. Even I think they're expensive."</p><p>"Because you buy the most expensive ones. Gold leaf, seriously. They <em>do</em> have cheaper ones, you know. For people who know what budgets are."</p><p>"Never heard the word," Draco said with a grin. He smoothed out the parchment, grimaced at the tacky feel of ink drying under his fingers, and began writing his observations, careful to keep his letters small enough to fit into the minuscule boxes despite the awkward way he held the pen in efforts to avoid the worst of the ink on the barrel. He and Harry worked in silence for several minutes as the techs collected the last bits of evidence and finalized their inventory logs.</p><p>"We're done here, Auror Potter," one said. "We'll be taking her to the morgue unless you need something else?"</p><p>Harry glanced at Draco, who shook his head. "Thanks, Nowak," Harry said. "Go ahead. See you back at the office."</p><p>The techs levitated the body onto a gurney and covered her with a white sheet. They all took hold of the metal rails of the gurney, raised their wands in one simultaneous sweep, and disappeared in a flash of white light.</p><p>Draco counted to three before slamming the side of his fist onto the table, forcing it to drop several inches. "Fuck this, Potter," he snarled as he raised the table back to position with a flick of his fingers. "That's the third woman in a year. <em>Three</em> women dead, and if the Yorkshire field office had done their jobs on the last one, called us in to investigate ourselves, we might have had him by now. I'm taking it as a personal insult that we've reached serial killer status with this one."</p><p>Harry ruffled his fringe. "I know," he said. "But we can't force the field offices to call us for every crime. We'd be out here investigating missing Pomeranians and everyday domestics. We have to let them decide what's dire enough to contact the home office."</p><p>"They make bad decisions, then. Retrain them."</p><p>"Right. I'll add that to the list of the hundred other things I have to do. I'll have to start sleeping in the office. I'm already three weeks behind on paperwork and not just because I keep avoiding it."</p><p>Draco signed his form with a massive flourish, the Y of his name looping around to stab into the D. "That's what you get for being the head of the department, Chosen One. Extra work and late nights. Take some of it home with you."</p><p>Harry laughed. "Right. Take work home. Where I live. With my wife." He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Not your best idea, Malfoy."</p><p>Draco grimaced. "Ah. Yes. She <em>can</em> be loud when she disapproves. I would know."</p><p>"Never stops you from coming over for dinner and eating all of my food, though."</p><p>Hand pressed to his chest in fake shock, Draco gave him a wide-eyed look. "You want <em>me</em> to tell her no, thanks, not interested in your cooking? Talk about bad ideas."</p><p>Harry pushed his glasses up his nose with the end of the pen, smearing ink on his cheek. "All right, point to you. Shepherd's pie tonight and if you want coffee, you'll have to bring it. Haven't the time to do a shop."</p><p>Draco hummed an acknowledgement. "You buy cheap coffee anyway."</p><p>"What, posh boy needs fancy coffee?"</p><p>Draco grinned, putting his completed form away. "So they tell me."</p>
<hr/><p>Pansy flicked her wand to send the empty dishes off to the kitchen, then affectionately smacked Harry on the back of the head. "No shop talk at dinner. Discussion of corpses tends to put one off their digestion."</p><p>Harry grinned and grabbed her hand, bringing it around to kiss the back of her knuckles. "Sorry. Can't help it. Spend all day surrounded by that kind of thing and it starts feeling normal. Back me up, Malfoy."</p><p>Draco lifted a brow. "You think I'm going to disagree with Pansy? I made that mistake once when I was twelve and I've never done it since."</p><p>"Thank you, Draco. You've always been my favorite for a reason."</p><p>Draco licked the back of his fork in appreciation before letting Pansy tug it out of his hand and zip it off to the kitchen. Pansy had always been an outstanding cook and she made a point of taking care with her flavors when he was coming over for dinner. The lamb in the shepherd's pie that night had been delicate, the onions sweet instead of acrid. She understood how overwhelmed his nose could get with anything too strong.</p><p>If only she could convince Hermione to stop wearing that particular perfume, he thought. He had been forced to retreat to the sitting room when he first walked in, the smell of violets and lilies leaving him with an instant headache. Shame. He'd been looking forward to seeing her but at least the perfume assault had kept him from saying something remarkably ill-thought when he saw the dress she'd chosen. </p><p>He dragged his attention to the conversation. "On the other hand, Parks, you have to give him credit. He did make it nearly all the way to the pudding before mentioning the case. I honestly thought he wouldn't even get through the appetizer."</p><p>Pansy slouched into her chair, the tips of her fingers pressed to both temples. "You're ganging up on us. Help me out here, Granger."</p><p>Hermione, who had been leaning back in her chair with a distant expression, blinked several times before focusing on Pansy. "What?"</p><p>"They're talking bodies and blood again. Join forces with me, make them stop."</p><p>Hermione sat up, toying with her necklace. "The rope killer? You found another one?"</p><p>Harry ignored Pansy's dramatic groan. "Third one, this morning. Exact same marks as on the previous two, and Malfoy smelled the same mix on her with his magic powers."</p><p>Draco rolled his eyes, attention pulled from the way Hermione stroked her pendant. "It's a skill, Potter, not magic."</p><p>"You smoke. Your sense of smell should be destroyed. If you can pick out 'cedar, leather, and ash' off a body that's been dead for at least four hours, then it's magic."</p><p>"If you'd been trained since childhood to pick out the notes of every damn wine or perfume on the planet so that you can avoid embarrassing your father when he shouted at you to pick something for his colleagues and their wives—" Draco heard his voice getting louder and forced his volume down with a soft growl. "You'd be good at it too."</p><p>
  <i>A bottle flung across a room, glass shattering against the wall, dark red liquid dripping down purple wallpaper like blood. Is that the best you can do? I shudder to think how you will remember one lesson at Hogwarts. Pick something else and do not dare come back with a Merlot again, boy.</i>
</p><p>Pansy laid one hand on Draco's wrist, her thumb brushing over the back of his hand. She didn't speak, but after a moment, Draco blew out a sharp breath. "Right. In addition to his other fine qualities: treason, murder, the usual? My father was a high-functioning alcoholic and it rather left its mark."</p><p>"So was mine," Pansy said. "Tragically common in our circles."</p><p>"My dad's dead," Harry said, eyes wide and innocent behind his glasses.</p><p>Draco flicked two fingers at Harry behind Pansy's back. "Thanks. That's very helpful, Potter. Remind us all that you have the lock on tragic histories."</p><p>"Dunno, I think we're all competing for that cup around this table. You and Pansy, both of your fathers are still in Azkaban."</p><p>Hermione nodded. "I altered my parents' memories and never did get them back. They think they're Australian through and through. I send them a card every Christmas pretending to be a very distant cousin with a huge address book and a lot of free time."</p><p>"And we all know about me," Harry said. "My parents were killed by Volde—"</p><p>Draco closed his eyes, head ducking and twisting away as if the movement could block out the word. The muscles in his left arm knotted. The memory of pain screamed up from the back of his mind. </p><p>
  <i>Loud, vicious voices from behind steel masks. A sharp finger prodding his arm, the tip of a wand dug into his flesh. Knees stinging from a sudden collapse, red eyes gleaming from shadows. Burning in his flesh, hoarse screams echoing to a moonlit sky. A high-pitched laugh fading into blackness.</i>
</p><p>Harry made a rough sound. "Dark Lord, sorry, Malfoy."</p><p>Draco cleared his throat after a moment and opened his eyes. Pansy settled her hand on the back of his neck, the tips of her fingers pressing into his nape. "It's all right," he said, reaching up to take her wrist and pull her hand away with a soft squeeze.</p><p>"It's not," she said. "Of all of us, you have a very different perspective on that name."</p><p>"Is it still Taboo?" Hermione asked, leaning forward in her chair. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. "I thought that the jinx would have broken after he died."</p><p>"It did," Draco said. He took a slow breath. "It's not the Taboo. Loads more personal than that. I'd rather not explain why, but I imagine you can guess."</p><p>Hermione's hand twitched, as if she'd stopped herself from reaching for him.</p><p>Draco gave her a tight smile, lips firmly pressed together. "I've never once said it, did you know that? Not once. To this day, I think he'll be right behind me if I do."</p><p>"What <em>did</em> you call him?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide. "Somehow I can't picture all the Death Eaters standing around calling him You-Know-Who. Not to his face."</p><p>Despite himself, Draco laughed. She looked so curious, so Hermione, that it skipped over his usual reluctance to answer questions about those years. "No. Mostly my Lord. The others, at least. I rarely addressed him directly. Only if he asked me a question and usually not even then. I wasn't supposed to speak up." </p><p>He tapped his mouth with one finger. Hermione watched him intently. "My mask only had eyeholes in it, as an unnecessary reminder of that. Tough as hell to breathe in it but on the plus side it cut the scent of Nagini down. Didn't appreciate much about that thing but I did appreciate not having to smell that snake all the time. We never did get all of the odor out of the carpets in the Manor."</p><p>"You never say this much about then," Pansy said. She watched him with wide eyes, surprise clear in her face. "I didn't even know that. About your mask. You barely admitted to me that you <em>had</em> one."</p><p>Draco studied the pattern in the tablecloth. Pansy was right. He never talked about his past as a Death Eater, not in detail. What little he'd said on the record was in the transcripts from his trial and that satisfied most people. He fended off annual requests for interviews from the Daily Prophet, desperate to get an article from the only Death Eater not in prison or the grave. Why he'd decided to share, he wasn't certain. Maybe it was the way Hermione looked at him. Maybe it was how the color of her dress set off her eyes.</p><p>Hermione had her lower lip caught in her teeth again, her face tight with concern. She fluttered her hand, then reached out and tentatively set her fingers on the back of his hand. "You trust us," she said, her voice raising only a touch on the end of her words, not enough to make it a question. "It's ... nice of you. Like we're friends."</p><p>Draco resisted the sudden temptation to turn his hand over and catch her fingers in his. He pulled away instead, cradling his coffee mug in his palm, the handle too small for more than two of his fingers. He took a drink, warmth spreading through him. "Friends," he said after a moment. "That's the word, then?"</p><p>"We are," she said, curling her fingers in as she drew her hand back. "We're all friends. And I'm glad you feel like you can talk about it with us."</p><p>"Don't know what got into me," he said, shrugging with deliberate casualness to push back the slight hint of disappointment as Hermione looked away from him. "Must be the competition. Never could stand to let Potter there beat me at anything. He wants to go on about some maniac killing his parents? Let me tell you about my <em>boss</em>."</p><p>Harry leaned back in his chair, half a grin lifting one corner of his mouth. He saluted Draco with his mug. "Right, giving up my title of champion of tragic pasts, then. Our shared madman tried to kill me but at least I didn't have to work for him."</p>
<hr/><p>Pansy dragged Hermione into the kitchen to put the finishing touches on the trifle. Harry and Draco took their drinks into the sitting room, both of them well aware that being in Pansy's kitchen without permission while she was baking was a swift way to no sweets at all, if not a hex in a sensitive place. They'd already pushed her far enough with the dinner discussion.</p><p>"So what is it you know about those necklaces that you aren't putting in your reports?" Harry asked the moment the door closed behind Pansy.</p><p>Draco looked over his shoulder as he lit a cigarette, window pushed out to let him blow the smoke out into the cool evening. "That obvious?" he asked.</p><p>"You are meticulous in your reports, Malfoy. You put down details that only you would remember. But you slipped up in the first report, the body in Leeds. You left the word 'familiar' in. A <em>familiar</em> symbol of a long-stemmed rose."</p><p>Draco grimaced. "I didn't think— No. I didn't want to think that it was germane to the case, not at first. It could have been a coincidence. But after the second I was more convinced. Now I'm nearly certain."</p><p>He perched on the windowsill, one knee bent up to brace his foot against the far side of the frame. "It's the symbol of a private club. The Thorned Rose. It's in Bedfordshire."</p><p>"Private club," Harry said with his brows raised. "You know what that sounds like. Exclusive, expensive brothel."</p><p>"It's not a brothel. Just a club for people with similar proclivities who want a massive country house to explore them privately. Or publicly. Depends on said proclivities."</p><p>"Right. Of course. And I'm guessing you've been a member since your father first bought a prostitute for you to make you a man at thirteen."</p><p>Draco laughed, head back against the window frame. "Ah, the classics. Heard that rumor at Hogwarts, did you? Was it the one that includes the whore in question having a snake tattoo on her arse and a tally list of every male to go through Slytherin house? That's my favorite."</p><p>Harry shrugged and flopped into the sofa, feet up on the coffee table. "Don't dodge the question."</p><p>"You didn't ask a question."</p><p>"Wanker." Harry took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. "Do you have a membership to this private brothel, <em>excuse me</em>, club, which I'm sure is full of kinky chains and whips?"</p><p>"Of course I do. They named a spanking bench after me the day I turned seventeen."</p><p>Harry choked, his glasses hitting the floor.</p><p>Draco snorted smoke, the smooth custom blend of tobacco harsh in his throat for a moment. "Your face. That was worth it. Come off it, Potter. You automatically think I'd have a membership? Just because I'm, what? Slytherin? Pure-blooded? Rich as sin?"</p><p>"All of the above?"</p><p>Draco shrugged. "True. But that doesn't mean I'd have a membership to a kink club. I mean, I <em>do</em>, I'm sexually deviant in all manner of ways, you're not wrong there. I've been a member for years. But it's rude to assume."</p><p>"I'm not assuming. Pansy told me months ago that you two would go to a sex club together. Tried to get me to buy a weekend pass. Never mentioned the name of the place, so it was an educated guess that you have a membership to this one in particular, but she was keen to try. Hated to disappoint her. That's why we took that trip to Africa, did the safari thing. Had to make it up to her even after I'd reminded her just how many reporters would be lurking if anyone found out where we'd gone."</p><p>Draco laughed under his breath. "All of them."</p><p>"Right? Exactly. Wouldn't that look great on the front page of the paper." Harry held both hands up, speaking in a dramatic voice. "Boy Who Lived, Bottom or Top?"</p><p>"Well?"</p><p>"Well, what?"</p><p>"Which is it? Or both? You strike me as a switch. I know Pansy likes to take control from time to time. Has she brought Jean-Pierre out of the drawer yet?"</p><p>Harry turned a brilliant red and turned away to cough.</p><p>Draco crowed with laughter, thumping his head on the window frame. "Poor Jean-Pierre, he nearly had to surrender like a true Frenchman when I was in Romania for that training program. Six months, Pansy wasn't going to go without. I was the model, you know."</p><p>Harry glanced down, below Draco's waist, and up a second later, a stunned look on his face. "No."</p><p>Draco smirked and blew a smoke ring out the window. "Yes."</p><p>"Let's— Let's leave that alone for the sake of my sanity." Harry put his glasses on and twisted around to stretch out on the sofa. "The case. The necklace. If you recognize it as the symbol of the club, there has to be a connection. Possibly our killer is— What? A member? An employee?"</p><p>"Unlikely," Draco said. "They run thorough background checks on all members and even more thorough ones on all employees. It would be difficult to hide a history of murder." </p><p>"What if it's not a history? What if it's a recent thing?"</p><p>"Most serial killers have a long trail of horrible acts behind them, things that would show up on a background check. They start small, very young. Jumping straight into murdering a human is a very difficult thing to do."</p><p>"You would know," Harry said.</p><p>Draco took a long drag from his cigarette, eyes half-closed against the smoke. "Yes," he said at length. "I would know."</p><p>Harry stuffed a pillow beneath his head. "Does it bother you?" he asked abruptly. "Being reminded of all of it?"</p><p>Draco stared out the window, concentrating on an owl winging over the trees, a long slender package grasped in its talons. He followed the bird with his eyes, keeping it in view until it disappeared from his sightline, focusing on each flap of its wings to keep another memory from clawing up out of his mind. "I can't allow it to bother me. It's literally impossible for me to forget, Potter."</p><p>"Right. I— Your memory. That makes sense." Harry made a face and rubbed the scar on his forehead. "Shit, I never really thought about that. Most people, those sort of memories would fade eventually. At least get a little softer. Even me, some of it is hard to call up and I was in the thick of it. Being on the run all those months, that's practically a blur now. That last battle, bits and pieces are clear but not all of it. I can't imagine having every second of your life as fresh as if it just happened."</p><p>Draco tucked his left arm against his stomach, a habit he'd developed almost as soon as he'd been Marked, an unconscious bid to hide. He looked down at himself, realizing what he'd done, and deliberately released his grip on his ribs, shaking his fingers out. He flicked the end of his cigarette out the window and moved to the one oversized chair Pansy had bought for him. </p><p>He stretched his legs out, the heel of one boot propped on the toe of the other. "It's hard, sometimes," he said. "There's a lot of my life I'd give half my vaults to never remember again. This, for example." He extended his arm, twisting it to make the sleeve of his jumper slip up and expose the faded head of the snake near his wrist. "That was a day I definitely wish I could forget."</p><p>"Understandable."</p><p>Draco tugged his sleeve back to his wrist, patting the cuff into place. "Most of the time, I like being able to remember everything. If I'd decided to go into the career my mother wanted, it would have been an advantage."</p><p>"Let me guess. She wanted you to be a barrister?"</p><p>Draco laughed, tipping his head back against the thick cushion of the chair. "God, no. Financial advisor. She expected me to set up a one-man brokerage firm and start rebuilding the Malfoy fortune with wise investments. Unfortunately for her, I am absolute balls at that sort of thing. I've never picked a winner. Put me in charge of picking stocks and I'd lose us even more money than the Ministry took for reparations. I pay a very nice woman to do all of that for us instead."</p><p>"So you decided to become the magical equivalent of a cop. That had to send a few ancestors spinning in their graves."</p><p>"Mausoleums."</p><p>"Oh, naturally."</p><p>Draco grinned. "Big mausoleums. Huge ones. Thirty feet tall." </p><p>"You're fucking with me."</p><p>"Built entirely out of marble imported from a private quarry in Italy, carved statues of angels in eternal sorrow, solid gold name plates, stained glass. And guard peacocks, of course."</p><p>Harry groaned. "White ones, I assume?</p><p>"Of course," Draco said. "Do they come in other colors?"</p><p>"Now I <em>know</em> you're fucking with me."</p><p>"A man has to have his hobbies. Quidditch, fucking with your head. I like to keep busy."</p><p>Harry gave him the finger. "That reminds me, inter-department match coming up. We're going against International and I know they're going to try to sneak that Australian woman on again, so keep a sharp eye on the signup list. She cheats more than you do."</p><p>"I have never in my life cheated at Quid--"</p><p>Both men burst out laughing. Draco shook his head and ruffled his fringe out of his eyes. "Damn, one of these days I'll get through that entire sentence without breaking."</p><p>"Uh-huh. Sure." Harry sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. "And speaking of getting places one of these days. Getting into places, more specifically."</p><p>Draco rolled his eyes. "You want me to investigate the Thorned Rose?"</p><p>"Find out if there really is a connection. It's <em>possible</em> that it's a wild coincidence, but I doubt that. All three of our vics have the same necklace, and those rope patterns look like something you'd get in a place like that."</p><p>"It's called shibari."</p><p>Harry put his hands over his ears. "Don't give me details. God, do not give me details." He dropped his hands, letting them dangle between his knees. "But yes, I want you to go there and investigate. See if anyone has a link to the vics."</p><p>"No can do. No single men allowed. Too much risk of trouble. I don't have a partner, can't go in."</p><p>"You don't have a partner. You, Draco Malfoy, are currently without a girlfriend."</p><p>Draco made a face. "Not just currently," he muttered. "For a while now."</p><p>"How long?"</p><p>Draco stared upwards without moving his head, mouthed a few numbers, then looked down and started tapping on his fingers. "When did you marry Pansy again?"</p><p>"Over a year ago, and we were dating for two before that, <em>fuck</em>, Malfoy, are you serious?"</p><p>"Apparently."</p><p>Harry stared at him. "How? <em>How</em>?"</p><p>Draco shrugged and stood, going back to the window. "Despite my reputation—"</p><p>"Most of which you've created yourself."</p><p>"Some of which I've created myself, thank you." Draco lit another cigarette with a snap of his fingers. "People think I'll fuck any woman who gives me a look but I'm not a casual sex person. I was with Pansy for most of school, during which I <em>never</em> had it off with her in the locker room, no matter what Zabini said. It was always the prefect's bath. I'm a gentleman. Took a long break after we broke up, for reasons I will claim I can't recall just now."</p><p>Harry raised his hand. "Ooooh, professor, I know. Because you were in prison."</p><p>Draco flicked two fingers at him. "Because I was in prison, yes. So that was two years involuntarily single. One of the other inmates did follow me around every chance he got, admittedly." </p><p>Draco exhaled smoke through both nostrils, watching the twin streams swirl into one. "Then, let's see. Mostly single for a year or so other than a handful of different dates, went back to Pansy off and on for a couple of years, went out with Aurelia a few times, went back to Pansy, more off and on. Accidentally introduced the two of you during an off period, and then...." He tucked the cigarette in the corner of his mouth and spread his hands, shrugging. "Nothing since."</p><p>Harry stared at him. "Nothing? Not even a flirt here and there?"</p><p>Draco looked past him at the door, eyes hooded. "No," he said quietly after flicking his cigarette out of the window. "Thought maybe, one woman I work with, but— Just friends, apparently." Dark, concerned eyes formed in his thoughts and Draco pushed them away. Dark, concerned, friendly eyes, he told himself. She'd made that clear. </p><p>He shoved to his feet and rubbed his hands together. "Think they're done in the kitchen?"</p><p>"Malfoy." Harry followed his gaze to the door and back. "If you—"</p><p>Draco held one hand up and shook his head. "Don't. Forget it. Not worth it." He forced a smile. "C'mon, Potter. If we're late to the table, Pansy won't let either of us have trifle."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione warmed her hands over the fire, only half-listening to the other three discussing the case. She wanted to be involved in the conversation but admitted to herself she was too distracted to properly contribute, especially considering one of the people talking.</p><p>Damn Draco Malfoy and his long fingers and his deep voice. He'd wiped cream off his plate, sucked it off his finger, and made a noise that had almost caused her to fall out of her chair. If she'd known he was going to be attending the dinner that night, she'd have planned to be elsewhere. It was starting to get ridiculous, how much she watched him whenever he came to the house.</p><p>If only he hadn't shown up that night in a black jumper that clung to his torso. She wanted to slide her fingers up his chest, grab the high collar, and haul him down to her level. She wanted to muss his hair. She wanted to stick her hands in the back pockets of what she would <em>swear</em> were black Muggle jeans.</p><p>Hermione suspected Pansy was inviting him on purpose, just to watch her squirm. The night they'd gone on a pub crawl to celebrate Pansy's new job as <i>saucier</i> at Gaudere had been a night of sticky cocktails and cock tales, reminisces of ex-boyfriends and one night stands and the physical qualities of each man involved. Hermione had raved about an 'anonymous' Bulgarian Quidditch player, Pansy had topped her with a story about an art dealer from Greece, and they had gone from there. It wasn't long before they drifted from history to fantasy and Hermione had said something she shouldn't.</p><p>She never should have confessed, even under the influence of a dozen vibrant blue and pink drinks, that she was attracted to Draco. She should have known Pansy would run with that information.</p><p>Hermione put her head on the mantle and rocked it back and forth. Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. Every time he came over for dinner, her attraction got worse. She had to stop herself from thinking anything along those lines, even if he looked like <em>that</em>. It was unfair that he looked equally as sexy in business wear and casual clothes. </p><p>That jumper had to be cashmere and resisting the temptation to touch it had been horrible. She'd stuffed herself with a second helping of trifle instead. She needed something to do with her hands that didn't involve reaching across the table and applying whipped cream to places other than her fork.</p><p>Closing her eyes, she forced all her thoughts away - For later, she admitted. Much later. In private. - and paid attention to the people behind her. Harry and Pansy were curled together on the sofa, her bare feet in his lap and his hands rubbing her insteps. Draco had claimed the oversized chair, the only other piece of furniture in the room large enough to hold him, and sat with his back to her.</p><p>"I can't order anyone to take this assignment," Harry said. "The harassment seminars I'd have to schedule, can you imagine? If anyone is going to go with you, it's strictly on a volunteer basis. And I have no idea how to even begin asking people. "</p><p>"What about Hermione?" Pansy said.</p><p>"What about me, what?" she asked, turning around.</p><p>"What about you hooking up with Draco?" Pansy said, ostentatiously examining her fingernails.</p><p>Hermione froze. <i>No</i>, she mouthed, her face turning a brilliant red.</p><p>"For this case," Pansy added, a heartbeat too late in Hermione's opinion.</p><p>Harry laughed. "Don't be ridiculous. You think she'd volunteer for this? 'Hermione, have you ever wanted to go to a fancy sex club? Have I got an opportunity for you.' I can hear Skeeter screaming with joy from here."</p><p>Pansy sat up straight, looking innocent. Hermione wasn't fooled for a moment. She braced herself.</p><p>"Draco needs a partner to get into this club, yes? And I'm clearly unavailable. If you haven't let your membership lapse," Pansy said, pointing at Draco, "and I doubt you have, Mister 'I put all my bills on auto-withdrawal from Gringotts and therefore still have a subscription to Kiddy Quidditch Monthly', then all you need is a willing woman. Hermione would be willing."</p><p>She grinned over Draco's shoulder at Hermione. "How about it, Granger? I'm right, aren't I? You're willing to writhe all over Draco in a country house?"</p><p>Hermione hadn't braced herself enough, she realized. She grabbed at her racing thoughts, struggling to come up with a retort that would let her leave with her dignity.</p><p>Draco snorted and made a dismissive gesture.</p><p>Any thought of walking out disappeared with the wave of Draco's hand. Hermione narrowed her eyes. He'd ... snorted. As if he considered the idea ridiculous. She glared at the back of his head. "What."</p><p>"You," Draco said, twisting to look at her. "At a kink club. You could hardly be less better prepared to even look the part. Do you own a single pair of heels?"</p><p>Hermione's jaw tightened. "You. Would be. Surprised."</p><p>"Not to cast aspersions on what I'm sure is a very fine collection of Oxfords, Wellies, and trainers, but I don't think you have what it takes in your wardrobe to be a guest at this kind of place. Employee, maybe."</p><p>Hermione jammed both fists on her hips. "And just what is that supposed to mean?"</p><p>Draco shrugged, turning back around and speaking over his shoulder. "And that's the clothes alone. The rest of it? You can't sit in the corner with a book in a place like this. You have to look like you're having fun. I doubt very much that you're good enough of an actress to pretend to kiss me, much less let me shove you over a table and have my imaginary way with you."</p><p>Hermione squeaked at the mental image. Pansy and Harry exchanged a glance that made her squeak louder. Oh, god. She knew that look. If Pansy had told Harry, this was going to be a nightmare. She needed to get out of the room before she embarrassed herself. Or before Pansy did it for her. Hermione was grateful she was still behind Draco and he'd turned away before he saw her face. He'd never speak to her again if he'd witnessed her reaction to his 'table' comment.</p><p>"So it won't work, Potter," Draco said, returning his attention to Harry. "Listen to her. The very idea made her go all mouse-like. I'll hunt around, find my own partner. Might see if Aurelia's still single. She was always up for a little—"</p><p>"I'll do it."</p><p>She'd said it aloud, she realized, the second he said another woman's name. She resisted the urge to scream at herself. Harry looked a little disturbed; Pansy looked completely delighted.</p><p>Draco shook his head. "No. Thanks for the offer, but you can't pull it off. It's not your kind of place, Granger. They don't even have a library, though I do happen to know there is a classroom for those folks that enjoy professor roleplay. Forget it."</p><p>"You're right, Draco," Pansy said with a bright smile at Hermione. "Changed my mind. It won't work. She can't do it. Not her kind of thing. Definitely not with you."</p><p>"You shut up, Pansy. Think I can't? I'll show you." Hermione wasn't certain what sort of jinx had taken over her voice, but it kept going. It made her tap one foot and huff as well. Had to be a jinx. She wasn't volunteering. Not to go to a kinky club with Draco Malfoy.</p><p>No, she couldn't lie to herself. She was. They said she couldn't and that was that, she couldn't resist the challenge, the chance to show someone up. And if it meant spending some extra time with Draco and his long fingers and his low voice, well. That was part of the job.</p><p>"Harry, you're the head of the department," she said with a stomp of her Oxford. "You can second me from the archives, make the assignment official."</p><p>Harry examined the knee of his jeans with a serious, focused expression, one thumbnail catching at a loose thread.</p><p>Hermione huffed again. "Harry. James. Potter."</p><p>"They're right, it's a bad idea. For several reasons, least of which is your long-standing—"</p><p>Pansy cleared her throat. "Harry. Do this and I'll do that thing."</p><p>Harry's mouth moved without sound for a moment, then his eyes widened. "The thing? With the—the sheer thing."</p><p>"Absolutely," Pansy said. "In a heartbeat. Put those two undercover and I'll do that thing. With the sheer thing." She put her hand on Harry's knee and squeezed.</p><p>"Auror Malfoy, meet your new partner."</p><p>Pansy's grin widened until her cheeks turned round. "Perfect," she said.</p>
<hr/><p>Pansy didn't let Hermione flee to the privacy of her bedroom in peace after the evening ended. She followed Hermione in, her grin showing nearly all her teeth. "Well," she said, clapping her hands. "That was entertaining. I'll have to make that trifle more often, if those are the results I get."</p><p>Hermione dropped onto the side of her bed. "Oh my <em>god</em>." She bent over her lap, hands burrowed into her hair, and screamed into her knees. "What have I <em>done</em>? Why did you egg me on like that?"</p><p>"I'm evil," Pansy said brightly. "Why didn't you mount him on the coffee table? Might have been less embarrassing to watch."</p><p>"I can't believe that you'd do this to me," Hermione said. "Is this some terrible sort of long con revenge scheme? Have you been plotting all this time? Marry my best friend, move in to the house I share with him, bring <em>your</em> best friend over, and watch me turn into—into—into—" She pulled her hair over her face. "Into this?"</p><p>Pansy hummed. "Long cons <em>are</em> the best. But no. I didn't think you'd do it, just wanted to see how far I could push you. I was sure you were going to back down and run out screaming. Never thought for a second you'd act on your fancy for him. How long have you been drooling over him again? Since the day he started in the department, yes?"</p><p>"It's not my fault," Hermione moaned. She slumped over, burying her head under a pillow. "It's not. Harry dragged me to an inter-department Quidditch game, welcoming the new staff, and he and Draco were arguing over who was going to be Seeker for the Aurors, and they made me choose because I'd be all 'logical and Hermione' about it, and then Draco took off his shirt and I had to pretend I'd choked on a <em>bug</em> because I stopped breathing. I got one good look at his chest and I had to go for a lie-down!"</p><p>"Did you see his back?"</p><p>Hermione whimpered and shook her head under the pillow. "Didn't want to risk it. His shoulders were already killing me."</p><p>"Right?" Pansy sat on the edge of the bed and patted Hermione's knee. "It's unfair, really. If I'd known he was going to develop those shoulders once he finally filled out, well. We all have regrets."</p><p>"And those expensive Italian suits!" Hermione rolled over on the bed to sprawl across the mattress, pillow clutched to her stomach. "He gets them cut extra tight, doesn't he? You could bounce a Galleon off his arse. I shouldn't know this!"</p><p>"Um, Granger. The reason you know that is because you stare at him all the time. I'm surprised your eyeballs don't leave little stains on his expensive Italian suits."</p><p>"But that's not the worst part. The worst part. <em>Worst</em>." Hermione flung both arms out, letting them drop to the bed with a muffled thump. "Is that he is so. Goddamned. Tall. He's a tree. I could climb him. Climb right up and wrap my legs around his—" She sighed.</p><p>Pansy lifted her brows. "Around his waist?"</p><p>"Around his face."</p><p>Pansy giggled. "He'd be okay with that. You do realize his fingers aren't the only long body parts he has."</p><p>Hermione tried to hide a shiver, but from Pansy's stifled snort, she'd failed. "It's too much to hope that <em>everything</em> is proportionate, I suppose," Hermione said, testing an idea she'd never gotten out of her head. Some of those Italian suits were cut <em>very</em> tight and either there was a disappointment in his trousers or his tailor was a bloody genius.</p><p>Pansy was silent.</p><p>Hermione wrinkled her nose and tipped her head back to look at Pansy. "That is a very ominous silence. He's not. Oh, damn, the wand doesn't match the wizard?"</p><p>Pansy shook her head slowly. "You couldn't be more wrong. But I'll let you discover that on your own."</p><p>"I won't be discovering anything. You heard how he was talking to me. He thinks I'm as sexy as a plate. He's not interested. He'll never be interested. I should restrict myself to my imagination, go to Harry and tell him it was the second helping of trifle that volunteered for this, and then start packing to move to—to—to. To Inverness. He'll believe that, he knows I'm weak after carbs."</p><p>"Draco's interested. He wouldn't spend so much time in the archives if he wasn't interested. There's nothing else he needs, not to have him down there at least three times a week, according to you."</p><p>Hermione made a face. "He claims he needs to refresh his memory on obscure points of law. Makes me find all sorts of scrolls and boxes for him and they're always on the top shelves so I have to get my stepstool. Tree bastard, he could reach them himself."</p><p>Pansy chortled. "Hermione. Draco has a near-perfect memory. He's never forgotten a damn thing in his life. He's making up excuses to come talk to you. Possibly to get a look at your legs while you're on your stepstool. You should start wearing shorter skirts to work. He'd appreciate it."</p><p>"I doubt it," Hermione said. "Three years. Three years of drooling after that man and nothing. I thought maybe, once or twice. Caught him when he didn't realize I could see his face. Thought there was a hint of attraction there, but that's as far as it's ever gone. He won't <em>do</em> anything."</p><p>"Oh, dearie, <em>whatever</em> could be the problem?" Pansy said in a high-pitched, old woman voice. She rubbed her throat and dropped to her usual register. "Is it possible that he's really, really, really concerned with making certain that nobody can accuse him of getting a woman through unsavory means? Such as, for example, a particular Unforgivable that he spent two years in prison for using? No, of course not. No idea why a former Death Eater would be worried about that."</p><p>Hermione plucked at the edge of the pillow case. She remembered reading the transcripts of Draco's trial, the Imperius he admitted to using on Madam Rosmerta and, by proxy, Katie Bell. There had been several questions from the Wizengamot on what else he might have done with the Dark spell, all of which he'd hotly denied. Even on parchment, his disgust at the idea had been evident. She could understand why he'd be so cautious about the implications. "All right, you have a point."</p><p>Pansy's face went solemn. "Hermione, he won't make the first move. No matter how much he might be attracted to you. He'll convince himself you're not interested and probably already has, if all you've done for three years is <em>talk</em> to him. If you want him, you're going to have to make it very damned clear that you do. He'll tease and he'll joke and he'll flirt, and he'll put on a good show for this assignment if that's what achieves his ends, but otherwise? He will not lay one finger on you unless he knows without the smallest, teensiest, minusculest—"</p><p>"Most minuscule."</p><p>"<em>Minusculest</em> shadow of a doubt that he has encouragement to do so. If you want to climb that tree, and you so <em>obviously</em> do, you're going to have to get a little aggressive. Challenge him. Make it very clear that you are not only okay with it, but that you're gagging for it."</p><p>"And how would you suggest I do that? Shove his hand up my skirt and say 'make me come, Malfoy'?"</p><p>"Not a bad way to go about it, really."</p><p>"Pansy! I was joking!"</p><p>"I'm not. You say something like that to him and he'll lose the ability to think." Pansy dropped down across the bed, her knees bent up, digging her bare toes into the thick duvet. "You're lucky, you know. You have the benefit of my experience. I know how to get that man into bed."</p><p>"This is a bizarre conversation. Should I really be getting sex tips from his ex-girlfriend? It seems indecent, somehow."</p><p>"If you want to be the best at something, you learn from the experts. And I?" Pansy buffed her nails on her shirt. "I am an expert at making Draco Malfoy hit his knees. Metaphorically. Count yourself incredibly singular if he'll kneel for you."</p><p>She clapped her hands. "You have no idea how happy this makes me. Finally, someone else gets to put this knowledge to good use. Glad it's you in the end; I never did like Aurelia. She's not a natural brunette, you know. Dyed it trying to get his attention."</p><p>Hermione sighed and shifted around on the bed to tug the hem of her dress out from beneath her calves. She sat up, legs crossed, and smoothed the skirt over her knees. Maybe it was a little long, but it was soft and warm, and the blue had looked so nice with her eyes. "This is ridiculous, Pansy. I won't be putting any of it to use."</p><p>"Hush. You will. I'll make sure of it. Use my handy-dandy tips for seducing Draco."  Pansy lifted her hand, one finger pointed to the ceiling. "First, change perfumes. What you're wearing is far too sweet. With his nose, he's bound to be on the verge of sneezing most of the time he's around you. I know you gave him a headache tonight."</p><p>"I've worn this perfume for five years, Pansy. He's never complained before."</p><p>"You've never been actively trying to get him into bed before. That's a teenage girl's perfume. You want one for a woman. Get something with some weight to it. Shalimar is a classic."</p><p>"Shalimar is <em>Muggle</em>."</p><p>"Guerlain was a wizard and anyone who says otherwise is a liar. Regardless, perfume. Something in that arena. There's one he especially likes. I'll get the name for you. Second, change shoes. Wear taller ones. Nice, high heels. You are a tiny, tiny thing and that gets him hot and bothered because he likes to pick up his women in a literal sense, but he's more than a foot taller than you. He'll throw his back out if he's constantly bending in half to get to you."</p><p>Hermione looked at her closet. The door stood open, all of her clothes exposed from the hour she'd spent picking out her outfit for dinner. Wasted effort, really. Draco hadn't said one thing about her dress. </p><p>She had her shirts, skirts, slacks, and dresses all lined up by season and color. The shelf running around the top of the closet held stacks of clear plastic boxes, each with a photograph of the contents. The shoes she actually wore were scattered on the carpet. Hermione wrinkled her nose. Oxfords, trainers, and Wellies. Damn. "I have two dozen pairs of heels. You should know. You made me buy most of them."</p><p>"Yet you never wear them." Pansy made a face at her. "Your legs would look amazing. That's why I make you buy so many. I keep trying and trying but you thwart me at every turn. Don't you enjoy the sound they make? I can make Harry shudder by walking across a room." She walked her fingers over the bed. "Click, click, click."</p><p>"They're not exactly work-appropriate, Pansy," Hermione said, drumming her fingers on the pillow. "I tried once and I slid on the floor of the Atrium and dropped all of my papers. Never did find the Avery file. I had to redo the entire thing from scratch."</p><p>"And I'm sure it was the six happiest hours of your life to that point. Heels, Granger. Wear them. If you need stability charms, I'll teach you. Now. Third." </p><p>She wiggled her fingers at the ceiling. "How to get Draco Malfoy to fuck you through a wall."</p><p>Hermione knocked the pillow onto the floor.</p><p>Pansy cackled and pushed up onto her elbows. "That got your attention."</p><p>"Shut up." Hermione cleared her throat, staring down at her lap. "Not that this is information I'll ever need, because as already discussed, he's not interested no matter what you say. But continue, if you insist. Only because you insist."</p><p>Pansy gave her a slow wink. "Since you've twisted my arm. One. He bites. Hard. If he can leave a mark behind, he's thrilled. Two. He likes to play with wax so if you've never done that before—"</p><p>"I have," Hermione said, staring at her hands, remembering a thin layer of white wax on her fingers. "Viktor liked it but we never did much. I enjoyed it."</p><p>"Excellent, then you know what to expect. Draco's a fiend for it and my god, is he thorough." Pansy hummed to herself. "Where was I? Oh, right. Three. He likes attention."</p><p>Hermione snorted, dangling half over the bed to retrieve the pillow, grateful the posture could excuse the heat she could feel coming to her cheeks as Pansy described Draco's turn-ons. They were all things she liked too and it was making her heart pound. "Attention? No. I never would have guessed that."</p><p>Pansy grinned. "Not that kind of attention. He likes to be watched. He says he's an exhibitionist, but you can translate that as show-off. Not that it's unwarranted, really. He's not wrong about knowing that every man wants to be him and every woman wants to be under him. Oh, and are you on some sort of contraceptive?"</p><p>Hermione knotted her brows as she settled back onto the bed. "Yes? Of course? I've had an implant for ages."</p><p>"Implant?"</p><p>"Muggle thing. Permanent birth control."</p><p>Pansy clicked her tongue happily. "Good. Because four is the big one. He'll come absolutely unhinged if he can come inside you. He'll look right in your eyes and <i>mmm</i>. The noises he makes? He <em>loves</em> leaving a woman dripping with him."</p><p>Hermione's face turned a bright, burning red. Her breath caught in her throat and she slammed her eyes shut, hit with the image of Draco's eyes mid-orgasm, of his hot come on her thighs. </p><p>Pansy cooed. "Oh, looks like I found one of <em>your</em> kinks."</p><p>Hermione grabbed the pillow and covered her face with it. "Nooooo," she whimpered.</p><p>"I did. I <em>did</em>. Oh, this is fantastic. Hermione Granger wants the come. Did I hit any other ones? Talk, Granger. Give it up."</p><p>Hermione shrieked into the pillow before mumbling.</p><p>"Sorry? Didn't catch that?" Pansy said with a grin.</p><p>Hermione snapped the pillow down. "That all sounds perfect, all right? You've ruined my entire life because I'm never going to put any of this information into action and now I <em>know</em> that we're incredibly compatible. Everything you just said? Love it. Love it all. Plus I like to beg for it. And I need to get praised for it. There. <em>There</em>." She flung the pillow across the room, knocking a picture frame off the wall.  "I said it. Are you happy now? "</p><p>Pansy clapped in delight. "He's going to worship you, Granger. I am looking <em>forward</em> to this."</p>
<hr/><p>Every dream she'd had that night had involved Draco. His teeth against her neck, his long fingers holding a dripping candle, his grey eyes gleaming as he looked down at her. She'd woken with her hand between her legs and her thighs still slick, the imagined sound of dream-Draco's groan in her mind. Hermione had given serious consideration to taking a sick day, solely to stay home and take conscious control over those fantasies. She'd been having dreams about him for years, but Pansy's details had made everything ... <em>better</em>.</p><p>Hermione bent her head over her desk in a desperate attempt to focus on her work. She should be making lists of what supplies they needed to order from Zabini Parchments and outlining the archive's schedule for the next six months.</p><p>She shouldn't be shifting anxiously in her chair every time she heard Pansy's voice in the back of her head.</p><p>
  <i>He bites. Hard.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He likes to be watched.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He'll come unhinged.</i>
</p><p>Hermione sank her teeth into her lip and gripped her quill tight, squeezing her thighs together. "Focus," she told herself. "Work. Two hours until you can go home. You can have some fun then. You have this."</p><p>"Talking to yourself is a dangerous sign, Granger."</p><p>Hermione jerked her head up, cheeks burning. Draco stood in front of her desk, head tipped in curiosity. She hadn't heard him come into the archives, the thick carpet muffling his footsteps. "You sounded a bit excited about getting to go home there. Feeling all right? Usually you're the one asking if you can have extra hours."</p><p>"I ... I'm not feeling well," she said. She resolutely stared at her desk and the now-snapped quill, ordering herself not to notice that he was wearing a new suit, one that <em>really</em> emphasized the breadth of his shoulders. Black, naturally, with a white shirt and deep green tie, and <i>stop wondering if you can get him to turn around so you can see his backside</i>, she ordered herself. "A bit off today. Thought I might duck out early."</p><p>She heard Draco exhale and glanced through her lashes to see him lean against the end of her desk, his legs extended and ankles crossed, polished black shoes gleaming in the light from her desk lamp. "Figured as much." </p><p>He folded his arms, his signet ring catching the light and drawing her attention to his fingers. Her efforts not to make a sound distracted her from his next words. "I thought you might be reconsidering. Expected you would, really," Draco said.</p><p>Hermione dragged her eyes back to her notes, tossing the broken quill to the side and plucking a second one from the crystal holder. She wrote a word, scratched it out, then realized what he'd said. "What?"</p><p>"Your unwise decision to volunteer for this assignment last night. Thought it would have you reconsidering most of the day. You always overthink. Maybe in this case that's a good thing, but I'm not surprised it's got you feeling off today."</p><p>"No," she said. "That's not it at all."</p><p>Draco continued as if he hadn't heard her. "If you were trying to give Potter nightmares, I get it. It's one of my favorite activities, can't blame you for that. But honestly, Granger, you don't have to do this. You're welcome to back out. Aurelia would probably be willing, if she isn't still dating that Spanish bloke."</p><p>Hermione set down her quill and closed the leather cover of her notepad. She folded her hands together and looked up at Draco across her desk. "I told you. I'm willing to do it."</p><p>Draco fussed with his sleeves, adjusting the silver snake head holding his French cuffs closed. "Right. I was trying to give you a dignified out. But let's be blunt about this. I don't think this is a good idea. I don't think you <em>can</em> do it."</p><p>She knotted her brows. "Excuse me?"</p><p>"We work together. We're not— You said we were friends at dinner. I don't know if that's true, exactly, but I work well enough with Potter and you're his best friend, so maybe there's some kind of transference property there. But we're friends at best, you made that clear. We can have dinner and talk and all that, but this isn't going to be bumping into each other in the canteen and discussing Floyd Miller's appalling inability to alphabetize."</p><p>"Malfoy, I can do this."</p><p>Draco kept talking as he shrugged one shoulder, his suit jacket rustling. "That's not what's going to happen here. If you're meant to act like my play partner at a sex club? At an absolute minimum, I'd have my hands on you. You'd be allowed to refuse anyone else, of course, nothing without your consent, but people would give us the eye if you were refusing me as well. And since you've never given any indication— Friends. As I said last night, I doubt you would even be able to fake a kiss, much less—"</p><p>Hermione shot to her feet, her chair juddering across the carpet and tipping over behind her.</p><p>Draco blinked, turning to look at her.</p><p>"I can do this," Hermione said through clenched teeth. "Why do you keep insisting that I can't?"</p><p>"You can't act like you want—"</p><p>"Want me to prove it? I'll kiss you right now."</p><p>Draco chuckled. "Right. Just like that and you're good to go."</p><p>She circled the desk, stepping on either side of Draco's feet. She placed both hands on his shoulders. "You're welcome to back out," she said, deliberately copying his accent, though she had no hope of imitating the deep pitch of his voice. "Unless you're the one that's not all that keen."</p><p>His eyes narrowed. He unfolded his arms, fingers curling around the edge of the desk. "Are you challenging me to a kiss, Granger?"</p><p>"Yes. I'll count to ten, let you off the hook, Malfoy." She smirked at him. "Maybe you're projecting and <em>you</em> can't do this."</p><p>Draco stared at her. His eyes were darkening as she watched. Then the bastard dared to smirk at <em>her</em>. "Ten," he said.</p><p>Hermione pushed up onto her toes. Shoving one hand into his hair, she gripped the back of his head and pulled him down.</p><p>Draco watched her eyes until her mouth touched his. She saw his lashes lower, felt a small quiver run through him. She'd intended a little, teasing peck to his lips, but that tremble made something snap inside her. She tipped her head and kissed him hard.</p><p>Her nails scratched through his hair and down the back of his neck. She gripped his tie, crushing the silk in her fist. Draco growled, hands snapping up to wrap around her waist. He dragged her forward, shifting his feet beneath her. He set one on the outside of her leg and pulled her onto his thigh.</p><p>Draco traced her lips with the point of his tongue and she pressed closer to him, her hand slipping inside his jacket to rest on his chest. He was so solid, so warm, and damn Pansy for failing to mention that he was an incredible kisser. Damn Pansy twice for being right about the length of her skirts. If she'd worn a shorter one that day, she could have pushed herself further up his leg without the material bunching so awkwardly. She dropped her hand from his chest, grabbed her skirt, and pulled it up a few inches.</p><p>There. That was it. The fabric was out of her way and she could feel how soft his trousers were on the insides of her thighs. She whimpered into the kiss, fingers slipping under his jacket to cling to his belt.</p><p>Draco dragged one hand up her back and wrapped the length of her braid around his fist. He tugged, tipping her head further before giving a quick, exploratory sweep of his tongue across hers. Both hands dropped to her arse, lifting her off her feet and hauling her full against him, knee bent to leave her riding on his thigh.</p><p>Before she could stop herself, she wriggled. His leg was solid muscle between hers and even the layers of clothes separating them couldn't prevent her from seeking more. If she angled forward a little, just a touch— </p><p>His leg tensed and <em>lifted</em>, pressing exactly where she wanted. Hermione whimpered again and sank her teeth into his lower lip, her nails digging into his nape.</p><p>Draco made a sound, a deep <i>nnh</i> that seemed half-caught in his throat. Hermione's heart pounded. She pulled back, scraping his lip between her teeth, to look at him. His eyes were closed, his cheeks were flushed pink, and his pulse was fluttering above his collar. Tempting as it was to go in for a second kiss, she restrained herself. She'd proved her point. </p><p>Hermione smoothed his tie against his chest, watching her hand shake. "That—that was." Her voice came out much more hoarse than she anticipated. She cleared her throat roughly. "How was that, then? Still think I should back out?"</p><p>"Uh." Draco opened his eyes. The pale grey had turned to slate. "Nuh?"</p><p>Hermione took a shaky breath. "Good. That's—that's good. Then we're set. I'll—" She reached behind her, pushing on his leg. "You can, um. You can put me down," she said.</p><p>He blinked at her, then slowly lowered his knee to let her slide to the floor, his hands falling to his sides. His mouth looked swollen and Hermione had to fight the urge to brush her fingers across it.</p><p>Draco licked his lips and Hermione's knees buckled. She grabbed at her desk and knocked over her quill holder. Draco and she both scrambled to catch the holder before it could hit the floor and their fingers tangled. Hermione jerked back, her hand tingling from the brief touch. "It's fine, leave it, I'll get it later!"</p><p>She yanked her purse off the back of her chair, circled the opposite side of the desk, and rushed out, ignoring the way he called after her. If she spent one more minute next to him, she had no idea what she'd do. She had to get out, go home.</p><p>Go home. Lock her door, throw a Silencing charm at it, and go straight to bed. In the lift, Hermione touched shaking fingers to her mouth.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Pansy abducted her from the Ministry at lunch the following day, dragging her into a small and exclusive boutique for 'clothes that will drive Draco mad.' While Pansy stood in front of a rack of dresses and short skirts, Hermione thumped her head against the wall of the fitting room. "I kissed him, Pansy! <em>Kissed</em> him."</p><p>Pansy held a red dress next to Hermione's cheek and tipped her head. "Yes, you've said. Several times." She discarded the dress on an ankle-high pile of silks, velvets, and satins in a riot of colors and chose another in a slightly different shade of red. Examining it critically, she shook her head and dropped it atop the others. "How many times are you going to tell me that you kissed him? Without giving further details, that is. Details, Granger, all of them. What happened?"</p><p>Hermione had already decided she wasn't going to give Pansy that much information. She rummaged through her memory of the kiss, considering what she felt she could say without setting Pansy off. "He kissed back. With tongue. And he grabbed my bum."</p><p>Pansy paused with a fistful of yellow lace skirt against Hermione's cheek. "<em>Did</em> he now?" Her green eyes brightened. "Did he make that little noise?"</p><p>Hermione pointed to a black dress. Pansy shook her head forcefully. "I don't think he owns any colors other than black and white. You need to contrast with him."</p><p>Hermione sighed and pointed to a pink one instead.</p><p>Pansy considered the dress but passed by it. "So did he?"</p><p>"Did he what?" Hermione asked, looking at her mouth in the mirror. Was it slightly swollen? It had been when she got home that night and still looked a little swollen to her now, but Pansy hadn't commented on it, and Hermione knew that Pansy <em>would</em>, if she'd noticed.</p><p>"Make that little noise."</p><p>"Oh," she said as Pansy slipped a blue dress off its hanger. "That little—" She tensed her throat and tried to recreate the sound Draco had made.</p><p>Pansy pumped her fist. "<em>Yes</em>." She flung the blue dress into the pile. Burrowing deep into the rack, she grabbed a purple one instead and dumped it over the top of Hermione's head. "Was he able to speak once you stopped kissing?"</p><p>Hermione pushed the fabric aside, peering at Pansy through one eye. "No?"</p><p>Pansy danced in place. "Now that's the way to do it! We'll have his Quaffle through your hoop in no time."</p><p>"Quidditch metaphors?" Hermione said. "Really? Cooking similes I could understand, but Quidditch?"</p><p>"You date nothing but Quidditch players for two decades, you'll learn their language."</p><p>Hermione cleared her throat, pulling the dress off her head to crumple it in her lap. "Speaking of Quidditch," she said.</p><p>Pansy looked over her shoulder, arched brows lifting. "Yes?"</p><p>"Malfoy. He plays Quidditch. And it shows. In his. Um. Those. His." Hermione thumped her head against the wall again. From how soaked her knickers had been when she took them off in her bedroom, she could only pray that she hadn't left a wet spot on his trousers. She'd spent half the night dreaming about clamping Draco's leg between hers and riding herself to completion. "God, his thighs."</p><p>Pansy sighed dreamily and put one hand over her heart. "I know. Broom thighs. It's unholy. Did you know he can hang upside down for ten minutes using nothing but his thigh muscles?"</p><p>Hermione shivered. "No, but thank you. I'll think of nothing else every time I look at a broom."</p><p>"You're welcome. I like to be helpful." She took the purple dress from Hermione and fluffed it out, handing it back with a huff. "Put that on, let me see what I'm working with here."</p><p>Hermione raised an eyebrow, glancing meaningfully at the door of the fitting room. Pansy snorted. "As if you have something I haven't seen before. I'm not standing outside and giving you the freedom to change your mind. Put it on, Granger."</p><p>Hermione stood, holding the dress by the shoulders to look at herself in the mirror, then abruptly pushed it into Pansy's hands. "Sleeves."</p><p>"Yes? What about them?"</p><p>"They're missing." Hermione gestured at the dress. "No sleeves. I can't wear that."</p><p>"Any woman can wear a sleeveless dress if she has the right charms, and believe me, before we finish out the day, you're going to know the right charms. There's no reason you can't wear it." She handed the dress back. "Put it on."</p><p>Hermione shook her head. "Not this one. I <em>do</em> have a reason."</p><p>Pansy sat on the bench, crossed her legs, and laced her fingers together around her knee. She looked at Hermione's eyes in the mirror, then exhaled deeply. "Harry told me about your scars," she said.</p><p>Hermione went still, the dress held against her stomach. Unable to help herself, she looked at her arm in the mirror, the arm she kept covered at all times. No matter how uncomfortable she was, no matter how hot the weather, she wore long sleeves.</p><p>"The ones that Dolohov and Bellatrix gave you," Pansy continued. "Big ones. Obvious ones." She drew one finger over her throat, down her torso from her shoulder to the opposite hip, and across her left forearm. She kept her eyes on Hermione's in the mirror. "Scars very similar to the ones Draco has, you know. Won't bother him, if that's what you're worried about. Not as long as his don't bother you."</p><p>"No, of course not," Hermione said instantly. She'd seen him without his shirt at that Quidditch match and that night, hours after she'd fled in an aroused panic from him half-stripping right there in front of her, she'd remembered his scars. No one could fail to notice them. The twisted snake of the Dark Mark was the first anyone looked at, the black faded to a charcoal grey, still obvious despite the years that had passed. </p><p>After that, the long scar up his torso, with more than a dozen smaller ones twining around his abdomen and chest. The Sectumsempra. He'd nearly died that day from Harry's attack, almost bled to death on the floor. Snape's countercurse had kept him alive, but it hadn't healed him entirely.</p><p>She remembered overhearing Harry apologize for it, not long after Draco finished his training and officially became an Auror. Remembered Draco's long silence before he'd said 'thank you' in a quiet, surprised voice.</p><p>The hardest ones to spot were on his face, small and thin. The chandelier in Malfoy Manor. Hermione had been unconscious at the time, tortured past sense by Bellatrix, but Harry had told her about it, how the chandelier landed on top of her and shattered, spraying Draco in the face with the shards. They'd both been scarred that day.</p><p>"No," she said again, turning away from her reflection. "They don't bother me. I'm just ... nervous. I don't ever— Always sleeves. Always. I haven't been topless—sleeveless, even. In front of anyone. Not in years."</p><p>Pansy watched her for a moment. "What about satin gloves? Opera length. That would be appropriate for the Thorned Rose. Wouldn't even raise a single eyebrow compared to some things that get worn there."</p><p>Hermione considered the dress, pictured it with long gloves, and nodded. "I think that would work, yes. I'll try it."</p><p>"Then don't fret. Put the dress on and quit wasting time. I want to go to Miriam's Mochas before I have to get to the restaurant. They have a vanilla mint latte that'll rot your teeth right out of your head."</p><p>"Not the most effective thing to say to the child of <em>two</em> dentists, you know."</p><p>"Really?" Pansy looked at her with curiosity. "I'd have thought you'd be all for it. Lure of the forbidden." She grinned. "Like Draco."</p><p>Hermione whacked her with the hem of the dress, then considered the fabric carefully. "This is nice, but— What's Draco's favorite color?"</p><p>Pansy's eyes brightened. "Slytherin to his bones." She popped up and went to the rack, returning with a short green dress that shimmered from pale jade through bright emerald and up to deep malachite, the colors shifting as she twisted it in the light. "This one. He'll be speechless."</p><p>Hermione examined the dress, her eyebrows shooting up. "What sort of bra do you wear with this?"</p><p>Pansy cackled. "You don't."</p>
<hr/><p>The next morning, Hermione made a few inroads on the archive schedule she'd been putting off. Things were going well, until: "Hermione, would you come to my office for a few minutes?"</p><p>Hermione stared at the silver stag prancing around the top of her desk. While she admired Harry's efforts to miniaturize his Patronus so he could use it for messaging when the intercom system was malfunctioning, having a stag suddenly appear in front of her was a little difficult on the nerves.</p><p>As was Harry's phrasing. Would you, not could you. It was polite, but from the Head Auror, it was an order.</p><p>She tidied her notes away and locked her desk. She smoothed her skirt over her arse, contemplating a quick lengthening charm. It wasn't much shorter than the skirts she'd worn at Hogwarts, when she thought about it, hitting a hand's width above the knee instead of at it. Tighter, certainly, and the slit in the rear seam was a new experience. </p><p>She rubbed one finger over her kneecap, checking a thin spot in her sheer stocking, and decided against the charm. She'd worn that skirt for a reason.</p><p>Her heels sank into the carpet as she walked through the archives, then click-click-clicked across the tiles of the hall as she made her way to MLE. She nodded to several wide-eyed Aurors as she passed through the bullpen and went into Harry's office without knocking.</p><p>Behind his desk with his feet up, Harry stuffed a biscuit into his mouth and tossed a small replica Snitch across the room.</p><p>Draco, one ankle resting on the opposite knee, caught the Snitch without looking up from the folder spread open on his lap.</p><p>"Hermione," Harry said. "You and Malfoy should be dating."</p><p>Hermione blinked. She looked back at the door, wondering if she'd accidentally gone past the Aurors and instead wandered into the Department of Mysteries, through some strange portal and into an alternate world. There couldn't be that many other explanations for what Harry had said.</p><p>She didn't <em>disagree</em>, precisely. That was something she'd been dreaming about for years. It was something she wanted. But it was a small shock to have her best friend blurt it out, and in front of Draco, too. Hermione shook her head.</p><p>"What?" She looked at Draco, still studying the folder on his lap, and back to Harry. "Where is this coming from?"</p><p>"You should be dating," he said again. "Because turns out at least one person already thinks you are. Phillips went down to the archives to look up some details on that Occamy case from a couple of years ago, but he didn't want to interrupt you. Seems you were—" He made quote fingers. "Playing tonsil Quidditch with Malfoy."</p><p>Hermione's face flared bright red.</p><p>"Surprised Phillips, that's for sure. He didn't know you were that good at keeping a secret. Unfortunately for you, he isn't."</p><p>Hermione dropped into a chair in front of Harry's desk. She covered her face and barely stopped herself from letting out a groan. Phillips. One of the biggest gossips in the Ministry. The entire wizarding government would know she'd been kissing Draco by the end of the day. If Rita Skeeter wasn't lurking by the fountain in the Atrium already, Hermione thought she might have a heart attack from the shock.</p><p>Sighing, she sat up and grabbed a binder clip from Harry's desk. She toyed with it, looking at it to avoid his eyes. "Yes," she said. "To answer the question you didn't ask, we—Malfoy and I. We were—"</p><p>"I dared you into a kiss," Draco said. "To see if you were actually capable of this charade. Seems you are."</p><p>"You? <em>You</em> dared?"</p><p>"That's what I told Potter when he dragged me in here to ask about it." He leaned back and ran one hand through his hair. "There's nothing between us and never has been. We're just friends. But we were spotted. What do you think people would be more likely to believe? That you started it or that I did?"</p><p>"But you didn't," she said. "It was my idea, Draco, and you know it. Why would you say that?"</p><p>"Granger, I—" He dropped his hand and looked directly at her for the first time since she'd walked in. His eyes flickered, widening for a heartbeat as he focused on her legs.</p><p>"It was my idea," she said again. "Harry, I want that clear. I started it. It was my idea and I wanted to do it. I proved I can do this assignment." Maybe proved more than that, she thought. Draco was the reason she'd worn the shorter skirt and he was reacting the way she'd hoped. Hermione crossed her legs and slid her fingers down her calf to rub the bone of her ankle. Even from across the room, she could see Draco's throat moving over his collar as he swallowed. "Didn't I, Draco?"</p><p>He answered with a soft grunt. He rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice dropping in pitch. "Fuck. Yes. Yes, you did."</p><p>Harry cleared his throat. "Don't care whose idea it was," he said, staring into a mug and making a face at the contents. He plucked a dessicated teabag from the bottom and dropped it into the bin. "Doesn't really matter. It happened. And if it convinced Phillips well enough to send him scurrying up here to ask how long you'd been together, then I'm convinced you could pull off this investigation. It gives us a good way for you to do it off the books, too."</p><p>Hermione dropped the binder clip into a cup. "Off the books," she repeated. "I wondered how you were going to explain 'sex club' on expense reports."</p><p>Harry groaned and tipped forward to thump his head on his desk. "I had a nightmare about that."</p><p>"All expenses already paid," Draco said. He stretched his legs out, ankles crossed, folder dumped on the chair next to him. "Part and parcel of my membership dues. None of it would be on the record for the bean-counters down in Financial."</p><p>"Thank fuck for that," Harry said into the desk. He sat up, scratching his forehead. "You know I hate doing paperwork and I <em>really</em> wanted to avoid filling out forms with some very inappropriate answers. But Phillips made me think: If you two have been dating in secret for a while and finally got caught out, you could go public. Make it a lot easier on explanations if anyone questions what you're doing together at a sex club. You're a couple and what you're doing on your own time is your business. You're choosing to go because you're dating and that's what you get up to on weekends. It could all be officially unofficial."</p><p>Draco balanced the Snitch on his palm, flicking it with one nail to make it spin. "I'm all right with it. What do you say, Granger?" </p><p>Hermione considered the idea. It wasn't as insane as it sounded at first. It would give them plenty of excuses if they were spotted at the club by anyone who knew them. They could investigate more easily as an acknowledged couple.</p><p>Plus, she admitted to herself, it would give her excuses to continue seeing him. Outside the club. Outside the office. Dates, even. Possibly real ones, for certain values of real. She'd thrown herself into the assignment with an ulterior motive, after all—fuck Draco Malfoy—and this would mean more time spent with him. More opportunities.</p><p>Definitely more kissing.</p><p>"I'll do it," she said quickly. "Public relationship. Officially unofficial assignment. Like being undercover twice, almost. That works for me."</p><p>Harry looked at her, looked at Draco, looked back to her. "You agreed to that more easily than I—"</p><p>The intercom gave a shriek. "Henge Autumn Puddle?"</p><p>Harry sighed. "Head Auror Potter here."</p><p>The next words were incoherent and faded out into static. Harry glared at the intercom, gave a faint hiss of Parseltongue, and stood, shaking biscuit crumbs off his shirt. "The life of a department head. I'm going to go shout at maintenance for a bit. Lock the door when you leave."</p><p>Hermione watched him leave, then turned back to Draco. "Right. So I'm your girlfriend, then? How long have we been together?"</p><p>"Think a year sounds about right. Would have been enough time to work out the rough bits, seem fairly settled. Had a couple of fights, made up. We'd be fairly comfortable together without being all over each other all the time."</p><p>"A year," she said. She disagreed on the thought that they'd be past being 'all over each other', because she didn't think that was possible when he was involved. If they were going to pretend to be dating, he would have to accept that. Permission to touch him was something she would happily take. "All right. After a few months of flirting. How did we start?"</p><p>Draco hummed, rubbing the backs of his fingers along his jaw. "Drunken shag after a wedding is always a good way to go. Who got married fifteen, sixteen months ago?"</p><p>"Kjeldsen, in Transportation," she said.</p><p>"Perfect. I definitely got drunk then. Who serves lutefisk at a <em>wedding</em>, for fuck's sake?"</p><p>"It's traditional."</p><p>"It's disgusting."</p><p>She huffed, then allowed herself to smile. "Fine, yes. You're right; it's disgusting. And I got a little drunk at that wedding too. So it's viable. We danced at the reception, you chatted me up, I thought you looked especially fit in your formal robes, and—and." And he had. He'd worn a crisp white shirt and waistcoat under black robes, and he'd smiled at her when they danced. His hand had been hot against her bare shoulder as he led her through the steps. She'd had enough sparkling wine that she'd been tempted to tug his bow tie loose and use it as a rope to pull him into a dark corner. "And I encouraged you."</p><p>Draco nodded. "I thought you were beautiful," he said quietly. "Your hair was down and I wanted to bury my hands in it." He looked at her, then away with a cough. "If anyone asks, of course."</p><p>He stood, tossing the Snitch back and forth. "That's it, then. We had sex after Kjeldsen's wedding. Started flirting in earnest. Maybe another weekend together here and there. I asked you out, officially, but you laughed me off because—I don't know. Because we were just friends having a little fun, I suppose you'd have said. Then I asked you again at Potter's wedding and that time it clicked. And we've been a couple since. Is that a good timeline for you?"</p><p>"You came up with that rather quickly."</p><p>He laughed, head back. "Can't help it. Part of the training. Backstories and aliases. Make any changes you like. I'm not going to run all over you with this."</p><p>"One change," Hermione said. "I wouldn't have laughed you off. I might have said no because I didn't want to risk what we had, but the second time you asked, I would have said yes." He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and turned away to roll the Snitch over his hands. Hermione plucked at the hem of her skirt, thinking. "What color are your sheets?"</p><p>Draco bobbled the Snitch, catching it out of the air before it could escape. "Pardon?" he asked. He crossed behind Harry's desk and put the Snitch on a brass stand. "Why do you ask?"</p><p>"If we've been together that long, I've been in your bedroom, yes? So I would know." Black, she assumed, from his usual wardrobe choices. She looked him over. Another black suit, three piece this time, with a tone-on-tone pinstripe. White shirt. Black tie with a faint shimmer. It was unfair, she thought. A man that pale should look deathly ill in that much black, but it made him look like a marble statue, elegant and alluring. Renaissance sculptors could have changed the course of the Catholic church if they'd used him as a model for Lucifer.</p><p>For a moment, she let herself imagine him sprawled out on black sheets, hair disheveled, eyes as dark as they'd been after she kissed him, and—</p><p>"Granger."</p><p>Hermione blinked, shaking her head. "Um. Yes? What?"</p><p>"I said they're green. Or blue. Depends on the rotation the staff is doing with the laundry. They have some schedule I'm not privy to."</p><p>"Hmm?" she said absently, contemplating the length of his bed. Seven feet, at least. Maybe more, if he was the type to move around a lot in his dreams. Kick the sheets off. Sleep naked, exposed to moonlight. "What are?"</p><p>"The sheets. You asked." Draco knotted his brows. "Are you all right?"</p><p>Hermione cleared her throat, forcing herself to focus. Those mental images could be explored later, and would. "We should— Let's go for coffee. After work. Together. Might as well get started on being public, yes?"</p><p>"I'm putting in extra hours today. Need to speak to some trainees about the case, hand out assignments." Draco retrieved his folder from the chair, buttoned his suit jacket, and adjusted his sleeves. Hermione couldn't help but notice that he was wearing cufflinks again. French cuffs for daily wear. She thought she should find that impossibly pretentious. Instead she wanted to open them with her teeth.</p><p>She shot to her feet, wobbling on the still-unfamiliar, unstabilized heels. Draco was across the room in a blink, hand under her elbow to steady her. "Careful there," he said.</p><p>His hand was warm through the thin fabric of her blouse, heat spreading up her arm from his touch. Hermione looked up at him. "We could go to dinner," she said, hiding a wince at the hopeful tone she heard in her voice and praying he hadn't heard it as well. "A date. If we're dating now. Tonight?"</p><p>Draco shook his head. "Can't tonight. Have to go home, take care of—of a few things."</p><p>"Oh. I understand. If you're busy." She started tidying the mess on Harry's desk, stacking papers and sweeping broken quills into the bin, trying to ignore the sting of disappointment deep inside her.</p><p>"Hermione."</p><p>She looked back to him. "Yes?"</p><p>"I'm busy tonight. I'm free tomorrow. Gaudere? Eight o'clock?" One corner of his mouth lifted. "It's Pansy's night off. Could ask her and Potter to join us. Make it a double. A little less awkward for a first date." He tapped the folder on his palm. "First public date, that is. As far as anyone else knows."</p><p>That little disappointment turned to a great leap of excitement. "Yes," she said, careful to tamp down the shout she wanted to make. "That. Yes. That works. Double date. Add to the act if Harry's with us. Has to be true if Harry Potter is there, right? And it would keep us from sitting there staring at each other without anything to say, if things did get awkward. That would give the game away, wouldn't it?"</p><p>"The day I run out of things to say to a beautiful woman is the day you can put me in the ground." Before she could fully process what he'd said, Draco stepped in close and bent down. He brushed a light kiss to the corner of her mouth. "For the purposes of keeping this relationship believable," he said. "I always kiss my girlfriend goodbye."</p><p>He straightened and went to the door. "I'll make the reservation," he said over his shoulder. "My treat. Expect my owl with details. See you there."</p><p>Hermione waited a few seconds after the door closed behind him, then sagged against Harry's desk. She was going on a date with Draco Malfoy.</p>
<hr/><p>Draco sat at the conference table, three folders in front of him. He was supposed to be putting the finishing touches on his assignments for the trainee Aurors who would be assisting with the smaller tasks on the case.</p><p>Instead, he had his head in his hands and his eyes closed as he went over his latest encounter with Hermione. </p><p>More specifically, what he had finally noticed she was wearing. Her skirt had been at least four inches shorter than anything she had ever worn to the Ministry before, and he was certain about that. With a memory like his, he could recall every outfit he'd ever seen her in, and he had never seen that skirt before. He definitely would have remembered something that short, that tight, and exposing that much leg. </p><p>He mouthed a curse to himself. And heels. She'd been wearing heels. Not tall heels, admittedly, nothing that would raise an eyebrow for the average woman, but for Hermione Granger? She might as well have been wearing what Pansy had told him were called fuck-me shoes. If he didn't know that she was putting effort into showing she was capable of playing the role they needed for the investigation, he'd have considered setting her on Potter's desk so he could run his fingers up her legs and stroke the backs of her thighs.</p><p>He rubbed his face with both hands, ordering himself to put those thoughts away. He couldn't let himself get distracted like that, not while on duty. He'd had enough of a problem when she'd kissed him and had been forced to spend ten minutes in the depths of the archives talking himself down. He had to remain professional, focus on the job.</p><p>The door of the conference room squeaked open and Draco sat up, smoothing his hair into place and straightening his tie to stop himself from thinking about the look in Hermione's eyes when he'd bent down to kiss her. That close, he'd seen flecks of gold in her irises, and if he hadn't forced himself to take a step back, he could have lost himself in counting them again, like he'd done at that wedding. </p><p>
  <i>A soft chamber ensemble in one corner of the tent, slow romantic music. Candles floating over the dance floor, golden light casting a warm glow over the dancers. Hermione's small hand in his, her gauzy wrap draped over her elbows and her shoulder bare under his fingertips above the wide neckline of her dress. Her dark curls swaying in time with the music. Her eyes shining as she looked up at him.</i>
</p><p>He cleared his throat, marshalled his thoughts, and stood to greet the Auror trainees. "Trainee Cotterill, Trainee Choudhury," he said to the two women, adding a nod for the man who entered last. "Trainee McGowan. As part of your program, you'll each take an assignment for the case I'm investigating." </p><p>He gestured the trio to the seats across the table from him, ensuring that they sat with their backs to the door. He watched to see how they reacted. The two women both angled their chairs to have the door in their peripheral vision. Draco hid a satisfied smile. He'd heard good things about those two and was pleased to have confirmation. "I want you to go over the files for the first two murders. Cotterill," he said, pushing the folders across the table, "you'll be re-interviewing in Leeds. Choudhury, you'll take Thornhill. Both in Yorkshire. Don't bother with the field office. They're useless. McGowan—"</p><p>"Let me guess. Interviewing more useless witnesses, Malfoy?"</p><p>Draco raised his brows. "No," he said. "You'll be collecting information on jewelry makers in Great Britain. Names, addresses, so forth. You can skip anyone who doesn't do custom work. Illustration of what we're looking for is in the folder. Do not disseminate. That sketch and description is <em>not</em> for the public to know. And that's Auror Malfoy, to you."</p><p>McGowan made a face, his freckles standing out against his skin, and grumbled under his breath.</p><p>"Do you have a comment, Trainee McGowan?"</p><p>"It's grunt work," McGowan muttered.</p><p>"It is. And unfortunately for you, grunt work is often a large part of this job. It's called investigation. If you're not willing to put in the hours with paperwork, this may not be the career for you."</p><p>"Just want to be out in the field," McGowan said.</p><p>Draco put both hands on the table, leaning into his palms. "Let me guess. You expected blazing adventures, flourished wands, dawn raids. Dark wizards cowering at your feet."</p><p>McGowan tightened his jaw and sat up. "Something like that. Never was told we'd be taking <em>orders</em> from Dark wizards."</p><p>Cotterill and Choudhury both sucked air over their teeth and leaned away from McGowan. </p><p>Draco didn't move. He stared at McGowan for several heartbeats, waiting until the man shifted in his chair. "Problem?" Draco snapped, narrowing his eyes deliberately.</p><p>McGowan tucked his hands under the table, his body's slight movement indicating he'd started to jiggle one leg. "We were told that people with criminal records weren't permitted to become Aurors," he said. He lifted his head and met Draco's eyes. "But you have one. Did you even finish school or were you too busy being a Death Eater?"</p><p>"Yes, I do have a criminal record, Trainee McGowan, and no. I never finished school. I was a Death Eater and I spent two years in Azkaban for it. Under normal circumstances, any of that would have disallowed me from becoming an Auror. But let me ask you this. Have you ever heard the Muggle phrase, 'it takes a thief to catch a thief'?"</p><p>McGowan shook his head.</p><p>"It means, when you're looking for criminals, your best resource can be a criminal. The mandate of the Auror department is to hunt Dark wizards and witches. It was determined that my training and skills would be especially useful in that regard and my experience in the war made up for any deficiencies in my education. You will be very hard-pressed to find someone who has more intimate knowledge of Dark magic than a former Death Eater." </p><p>
  <i>Put one foot out of line during your training, Malfoy, and it'll be a quick trip back to Azkaban for  you. You were vouched for but don't think that means you're trusted. You'll have to work four times as hard as anyone else to prove yourself.  But at least there's some things we won't have to teach you, yeah?</i>
</p><p>Draco gave a humorless laugh. "Did you know? During my trainee years, I was given permission to skip the days we were taught the use of Unforgivables. I'm already rather good at those, after all."</p><p>"You shouldn't be here," McGowan mumbled. "Don't like it. Not right."</p><p>Cotterill and Choudhury exchanged a glance behind McGowan's back, then simultaneously edged their chairs a few inches away.</p><p>Draco straightened up to his full height, fingertips resting on the table. He smiled. "You don't have to like your colleagues in the Auror Office. But if you cannot respect every member for their abilities, cannot work with them in a civil manner, <em>you</em> shouldn't be here. And as of this moment, you no longer are. You're washed out of the program, McGowan. Clean out your locker, turn in your badge, and leave."</p><p>McGowan sneered. "You don't have the authority to do that, Malfoy."</p><p>Draco's smile deepened. He looked up, over the trainees' heads. "Do I have that authority, Head Auror Potter?"</p><p>Cotterill and Choudhury, having already spotted the same thing Draco had, didn't react. McGowan blanched. He turned his head and looked over his shoulder.</p><p>Harry, leaning against the doorframe, nodded. "Today you do. McGowan? You're finished." </p><p>"This is boll—"</p><p>"Stop." Harry didn't raise his voice, but he spoke with the full authority of his position. McGowan snapped his jaw shut, visibly fuming. </p><p>Harry stepped away from the door. "You can leave under your own power or you can be tossed out by security. Pick one."</p><p>McGowan knocked his chair over and stomped out, muttering to himself.</p><p>Harry stood by the door, watching down the hallway until the swearing faded out, then put the chair back in place and circled the conference table to stand beside Draco. He looked at the two women. "Everyone who enters this program does so on an equal footing. I didn't finish school either. My experiences were considered sufficient training, same as Auror Malfoy. He's as qualified as anyone else who has gone through the program. In some respects, <em>better</em> qualified. I would trust him to save my life."</p><p>He glanced sideways at Draco. "Matter of fact, he's done that already. So let me be clear. Your only concern in this department is catching criminals and remanding them to justice, not whinging about ones who have already served their time and gone straight. Is that understood?"</p><p>The two women nodded. "Yes, sir," they chorused.</p><p>"Excellent. Sorry to interrupt, Auror Malfoy," Harry said, clapping him on the back. "Carry on."</p><p>Draco waited for Harry to leave before leaning across the table and sliding the abandoned folder back to him. "I'll take the jewelers, then," he said. "You two have your assignments. We'll start with Leeds." He tapped the board behind him without looking. "Unidentified female victim, approximately twenty to twenty-five years old."</p><p>Cotterill and Choudhury both started taking notes.</p>
<hr/><p>After Draco had gone to the Manor, spoken with his mother, and changed, he'd gone straight to Gaudere for Pansy's advice. The remainder of the restaurant staff had left for the night, but Pansy had a new recipe she was attempting to perfect. </p><p>An hour later, neither the sauce nor the advice was going well. </p><p>"And then I went <em>mad</em> and I kissed her because I always kiss my girlfriend goodbye, apparently, and—"</p><p>"Taste this." Pansy shoved a spoon against his mouth. </p><p>Draco touched the dark liquid with the tip of his tongue and shook his head. "Still not right. You're not listening to me, Parks."</p><p>Pansy tossed the spoon into a nearby sink and turned back to the stovetop, fists on her hips as she glared into the simmering pot. "I'm listening. You're going on a date tomorrow night, your first one in years, and instead of going it alone like a sane man, you're dragging Harry and me along as human shields."</p><p>"That—" Draco grimaced. "Well, in a manner of speaking, if you want to make it negative. I suggested the two of you come along so that it wouldn't be as awkward. The two of us. Romantic setting." He made a helpless gesture. "Pretending I've been shagging, for over a year, a woman who's never given me a second glance."</p><p>Pansy gave an indelicate snort. "Second glance, my arse."</p><p>"Don't start this again." Draco folded his arms over the back of the chair he was straddling and drummed one heel on the tile floor. "You keep insisting she's attracted to me. I would have noticed by now."</p><p>Pansy examined a row of spice bottles, tapping one with her nail before moving on. "Draco. It took you six months to realize <em>we</em> were dating back at Hogwarts and I spent half the time we were in the common room sitting on your lap. I was beginning to think I'd have to glue a note to your forehead saying you were my boyfriend before you'd catch on."</p><p>"What's that supposed to mean?"</p><p>"It means that you are a skilled Auror, an excellent Seeker, an incredible lover, and an absolute moron about women." Pansy added a sprinkle of a minced green leaf to the saucepot. "She wants you."</p><p>"Pansy, I've been to dinner at your house at least twice a month since you married Potter and not once has Granger given the slightest indication of that. I don't know where you're getting this idea." </p><p>"You think a woman who volunteered to go to the Thorned Rose with you, to publicly pose as your girlfriend, is a woman who has zero interest in you? She jumped on those opportunities just as hard as she wants to jump you." She stirred the sauce, lifted the spoon to give it a sniff, and growled under her breath. "What is <em>wrong</em> with this?"</p><p>Draco settled his chin on his folded arms. "She did it because we all said she couldn't. She's always been like that. Tell her she can't do something and she'll do it just to prove you wrong. I tried to give her the chance to back out but she's stubborn. Even this whole fake relationship idea didn't throw her. I was positive that was going to do it."</p><p>"Taste this again?"</p><p>"You used oregano instead of thyme. I can smell it from here. Start over." </p><p>Pansy swore and lugged the saucepot to the giant sink to wash it out. The thundering sound of the water against the metal basin cut off conversation for a moment.</p><p>Draco dug into his back pocket for his cigarette case and lighter. The empty coffee cup at his elbow served as an ashtray. He ran his free hand through his hair, considering Pansy's words. He normally took her advice without question but on this matter he didn't believe her. </p><p>He couldn't believe her. It wasn't the first time she'd told him that Hermione liked him, in more than a colleagues and friends sense, but—</p><p>But she had to be wrong. Hermione had made it clear. Repeatedly. They were friends, that was it, and this entire thing was nothing more than a job. He'd come up with the idea of claiming they were in a relationship in order to distract anyone from questioning that kiss but expected Hermione would balk at it and back out of the whole thing. He'd been braced to go on the hunt for someone else to pose as his partner at the Thorned Rose or to start thinking of some other way to investigate the club.</p><p>Instead, Hermione had agreed and almost immediately asked him on a date. Or he'd asked her on a date. Despite his memory, he wasn't certain which of them had the idea. He'd been distracted by her legs. Narrow ankles, rounded calves. He hadn't been able to see much above her knees but he hadn't needed to look. She'd been damn near riding him for that kiss in the archives and he'd definitely had a good feel of her thighs. Soft, warm, tight around his leg, giving him thoughts about how she might feel under him with her thighs wrapped around his hips.</p><p>
  <i>The soft whimper against his mouth. The weight of her on his thigh, scratch of nails in his hair. The <span class="u">heat</span> of her body. The slight damp spot on his trouser leg. The sharp points of her teeth in his lip.</i>
</p><p>And she'd done it to prove that she was capable of taking this assignment. </p><p>Draco took a long drag from his cigarette, holding it until he felt light-headed. "This is insanity," he said, raising his voice when he realized Pansy had disappeared into the walk-in pantry. "You don't usually steer me wrong but you're wrong on this one."</p><p>She stuck her head out of the pantry. "I am <em>not</em> wrong, Draco Lucius Malfoy."</p><p>"You are. Hate to say it, Parks, but you are."</p><p>A long stalk of asparagus zipped out of the pantry and past his head. Without moving, Draco blew a smoke ring. "Missed me."</p><p>Pansy stomped out with her arms laden with vegetables. She slapped them down on the counter and grabbed her knife. "When you finally figure out that I'm right about this, I'm going to laugh for a year. I'll take out daily adverts in the paper, in big bold letters. <em>Huge</em> letters. A whole page of the paper. I told you so, it'll say. Should have listened to me. Knew it all along." She sliced through a leek. "Pansy is never wrong."</p><p>"Pansy <em>is</em> going to help her best friend, yes? She and her husband are going to come along on this completely job-related date with said best friend and the woman who <em>does not</em> have any interest in him and is only doing this to make their assignment look more real?"</p><p>Pansy gave a ferocious chop to the leek. "Of course I am, you twat."</p><p>"Good." Draco dumped the end of his cigarette in the coffee mug and stared at the floor. "Because I don't— She doesn't— Even if I—"</p><p>Pansy put the knife down and walked over to him. She stroked his hair. "Draco," she murmured. "Darling. Do you know you're completely fucked up over her?"</p><p>"I know," he said quietly. "I <em>know</em>. And if an imaginary relationship is as close as I'll ever get?" He leaned his head against her shoulder, closed his eyes, and sighed. "I'll take it."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione tugged Pansy to a stop under a streetlight, gesturing Harry to go on without them. He glanced back once, then shrugged and disappeared around the corner. "Are you sure I look all right?" Hermione said. "Should I have done something—" She gestured at her face. "More?"</p>
<p>"Granger, you look fine. More than fine." She reached out and took a piece of Hermione's hair, pulling it over her shoulder to dangle by her cheek. "Your hair's down. That's all he's going to care about."</p>
<p>"He <em>did</em> say he liked it like this," Hermione said. Not exactly that, she thought. He'd said he wanted to put his hands in it. The way he'd said it had been to give a little more detail to their imaginary first flirtation, true. But—</p>
<p>The way he'd <em>looked</em> at her when he said it was what she couldn't get out of her mind. His eyes had been dark and distant at the same time, almost—</p>
<p>She'd say almost wistful if she didn't know better.</p>
<p>She took a deep breath and ran her hands down her arms under her cloak, smoothing the sleeves of her velvet dress. Pansy had attempted to convince her to wear one of the dresses they'd bought at the boutique, but she had refused. She was <em>not</em> prepared to debut any of those purchases on a double date with Harry. He'd never be able to look her in the eye again.</p>
<p>She'd fought Pansy on the spiked shoes, too, sticking with low, plain heels. She'd surrendered on the violet perfume, though she hadn't been able to find something else she thought Draco might like and had gone without. </p>
<p>She touched her chest under the cloak. The dress was more low-cut than she usually wore and it exposed the top two inches of the purple curse scar across her torso. It wasn't the one scar she insisted on keeping covered, the one on her arm and the reason for her long sleeves, but she was still a little nervous about leaving it on view.</p>
<p>Pansy spotted her movements and snorted, reaching into the cloak to pull her arm down. "He won't pay the slightest bit of attention to that," Pansy said. "Do you spend all your time looking at him and saying 'ew, look at those scars' or do you stare at him and think 'dammit, why am I not banging that man right now'?</p>
<p>"Pansy!"</p>
<p>"The latter, then." Pansy grinned at her. "And regardless, if he did actually notice, he's far too much of a gentleman to say anything. I let you have long sleeves and a swingy skirt, so you have to give me the sweetheart neckline. Or I'll pout. Do you want me pouting?"</p>
<p>"That depends. If you're pouting, will you stop making those puff pastries for weekend brunch?"</p>
<p>"Absolutely. There will never be a pastry in the house again."</p>
<p>Hermione smiled. "Oh, all right. I'm convinced. Can't live without your pastries."</p>
<p>Pansy drew another bit of Hermione's hair over her shoulder. "He'll love it, Granger. Relax. We're here to have a good time." </p>
<p>"If you're sure I'm—"</p>
<p>"Granger," Pansy said with a huff. "Stop fussing." She stepped behind Hermione, put both hands on her shoulders, and pushed her around the corner of the building. </p>
<p>The doors of the restaurant stood open, a bright golden light spilling out onto the pavement and outlining the two men waiting. Hermione barely noticed Harry. All her attention was on Draco. He had one foot propped on a decorative white stone, both hands tucked into the pockets of a black top coat, collar turned up around his jaw, a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, and—</p>
<p>And silver-rimmed glasses perched on his pointed nose.</p>
<p>"Oh," Pansy said in response to Hermione's squeak. "Must have done a lot of reading today." She grinned at Hermione, eyes gleaming. "Surprise!"</p>
<p>She walked away, leaving Hermione to stand frozen in place, staring at Draco. She wasn't sure if her mouth was hanging open, but it was possible. The glasses accentuated the lines of his cheekbones and drew attention to his eyes, shining almost as bright as the moon overhead.</p>
<p>Draco straightened up. "Hermione."</p>
<p>The low drawl of his voice shook her out of her stasis. Date, she reminded herself. Dating. For over a year. She would have seen those glasses before. Possibly pulled them off his face and tossed them onto a nearby table as she climbed into his lap.</p>
<p>That image pulled her forward. "Hi," she said as she walked up to him. "Um. Glasses."</p>
<p>Draco dropped his cigarette into a tray of sand behind him, exhaling smoke upwards. "Long day," he said. "Tired my eyes out. You know how it is."</p>
<p>Hermione nodded, locking her hands on the edges of her cloak to keep herself from reaching up and dragging her finger along the bar of his glasses and around the curve of his ear. She didn't trust that she'd be able to stop if she started.</p>
<p>"By the way," Draco said, his lips barely moving. "There's a reporter across the street. Looks like Skeeter wearing a very bad hat. Brought her photographer. We're going to be in the Prophet's morning edition."</p>
<p>"Oh," she said, forcing herself not to turn around. "Well. To be expected, right? Appearing in the public eye and all of that." She gave a tight smile. "Not the first time I've been in the gossip column. Can't tell you how many times I've been accused of messing around with Harry in her articles."</p>
<p>Draco laughed. "I usually ended up on the front page. Actual reporters, even, not gossip columnists. You know, this will be one of the few times the Daily Prophet won't feature me in chains." His voice softened as he spoke, but to Hermione's ear, it hardened at the same time, a stiff if subtle emphasis on the last word.</p>
<p>She looked up at him, at the slight tension around his eyes that was almost hidden by the rims of his glasses, and stepped closer. "They're here to see us on a date. Let's give them what they came for." She went up on her toes, curling one hand around the lapel of his coat. Draco bent down half a heartbeat later, his fingers brushing her waist.</p>
<p>She'd intended a light greeting but the heat of his mouth sent a rush through her. The same impulse she'd felt in the archives grabbed her. She slid her hand up to wrap over the back of his neck, tugging him into a much firmer kiss.</p>
<p>Draco palmed her side, his thumb rubbing her hip through her cloak. This time, he was the first to open, lips parting to fit to hers. He kept his mouth soft, each shift in the kiss slow and dragging. </p>
<p>Hermione didn't let it stay soft for long. She clung to his coat and slid her tongue along his bottom lip in a silent demand. Draco made a quiet noise that sent sparks through her brain and he took over the kiss, pressing hard against her mouth.</p>
<p>He gripped her waist, fingers digging in on either side of her spine, and lifted until she stood on the very tips of her shoes. His tongue slipped across hers, giving her the taste of smoke and sweet that she already recognized as his blend of tobacco, a taste she was starting to crave. She murmured to him. "More."</p>
<p>Draco yanked her off her feet, arms locked around her waist to hold her to him. The sparks in her brain turned to fire. She couldn't stop herself from responding with a smothered moan, her hands pushing his collar away from the back of his neck. She twined her fingers into the ends of his hair and tugged.</p>
<p>Draco sank his teeth into her lip with a growl. He whispered to her, something she thought was a question. Something she desperately wanted to believe was a plea. </p>
<p>She needed to stop before she could give in to the temptation to haul her dress up and wrap her legs around his hips. Cupping his cheek, she said his name against the corner of his mouth and broke the kiss.</p>
<p>It took a few seconds, then Draco lowered her to her feet and pulled away, the bottom half of his glasses fogged over. "Right," he muttered, wiping his thumb across his mouth. "That—that works."</p>
<p>Hermione felt more than a little foggy herself. She clutched his coat to keep herself steady. "Yes. That, um. That should—" Tipping forward to thump her head on his chest, she struggled to find words. "Yes?"</p>
<p>Draco looked over her head, across the street. Hermione turned enough to see the photographer frantically swearing and shaking his camera, Rita pounding on his shoulder with her handbag. </p>
<p>Draco plucked Hermione's hand off his lapel to press a kiss to her knuckles. "Yes. That should do it." He cleared his throat, lifting his head.  "We'll look very believable in the paper tomorrow. Come on. Potter and Pansy left us behind."</p>
<p>He wrapped his hand around hers and tugged gently. Hermione followed him into the restaurant without thought, all her attention locked on the warmth of his skin, only interrupted by the bands of the two rings he wore, and on how his hand seemed to envelop hers. She couldn't stop herself from imagining how much of her body he'd be able to cover if he spread his fingers out, how easily he'd be able to take control of her. She shivered, biting her lip hard to distract herself.</p>
<p>Draco stopped at the coat check and released her to shrug out of his top coat, handing it to the witch behind the counter before gesturing Hermione to turn around. She held her breath as his fingers slid over her shoulders, thumbs brushing the sides of her neck when he unfastened her cloak, then tipped her head back to touch his chest. He bent and kissed her forehead, smiling at her. "You wore your hair down," he said, voice loud enough for the check witch to hear him. "You know how much I like that."</p>
<p>"Anytime," she said, letting her eyes drift half-shut. His voice seemed to get darker when he was that close to her and it made her knees quiver. She couldn't think of a response beyond that single word. While he handed over her cloak and took the claim tickets, she took a deep breath, centering herself. Someone who'd been dating him for a year wouldn't react like that to the heat of his lips on her forehead.</p>
<p>That someone would be a fool, she decided. She didn't think she'd get used to that in a hundred years.</p>
<p>She turned around and Draco's eyes widened. He glanced down and quickly back up to her face, a hint of pink across his cheekbones. Hermione resisted the temptation to rub her arms again or to tug her sleeves further down her wrists.  "Pansy said your favorite color is green," she said. "I don't have a lot of date clothes."  She smoothed her hands down her hips and looked up to Draco. "Do you like it?"</p>
<p>"Yes," he said. His fingers twitched and he tucked his hand behind his back. "I like it. You look—you look nice, Hermione."</p>
<p>She smiled, pleased with her dress choice. It passed as something his girlfriend would wear. "Thank you, Draco."</p>
<p>Pansy and Harry stepped away from a decorative fountain by the wall and joined them. "They tried to give us a table," Harry said. "Got us a booth in the back after a little arguing."</p>
<p>Draco laughed under his breath. "The eternal conundrum for an Auror with my height. Leg room or paranoia." At Hermione's curious look, he smiled. "Thought you'd have noticed by now, living with Potter so long. Good Aurors don't like to sit with their backs exposed. Never know who's going to sneak up behind you."</p>
<p>"Harry never minds me behind him. And you didn't mind me standing behind you at the house the other night," she said. "Your chair has lots of space behind it."</p>
<p>"He knows you don't have any intentions on his body." Pansy grinned. "Well. Not horrible ones, at least. Only the best of intentions the other way. Isn't that right, Draco?"</p>
<p>He shot her a look Hermione couldn't interpret, but nodded. "Naturally. Girlfriend and all. The other sort of intentions are part of the role."</p>
<p>"Could we not, right here in front of me?" Harry said plaintively. </p>
<p>Pansy pulled on an innocent face. "Harry, I only meant—"</p>
<p>"I've been married to you for a year. You think you're fooling me?" </p>
<p>Pansy giggled and kissed his cheek. "Had to try."</p>
<p>The host came up to them and coughed to catch their attention. "Malfoy, party of four. Your booth is ready."</p>
<p>Draco crooked his elbow and Hermione slipped her hand over his arm. Behind them, Harry and Pansy did the same. At the booth, there was a brief discussion. Draco wanted to slide into the corner of the booth, putting a wall to both his back and his left side, but it was obvious there wouldn't be enough room under the table for four sets of legs when one set of them was that long. </p>
<p>The two men argued for a moment over who would sit where. Hermione and Pansy exchanged a glance, then simultaneously drew their wands and cast expansion charms under the table. Harry and Draco stopped mid-word, both looking sheepish. "Women inside, men outside," Pansy said as Hermione slid into the booth, putting herself on Draco's left. "No need to make it difficult."</p>
<p>"And that way the longest legs are on the outside, too," Hermione added. "Really, gentlemen. Is this Auror efficiency?"</p>
<p>"They always have to complicate things," Pansy said. </p>
<p>"I've noticed tha—at." Hermione's voice caught as Draco knocked her knee when he settled into the booth beside her. She wasn't sure if it had been intentional. To test, she adjusted position to rest her thigh against his. He swallowed, eyes flicking down, and Hermione hid a smile. No. Not with that reaction to a touch.</p>
<p>A server came by with a water pitcher for the table and took their drink orders—three glasses of wine, one cognac—before passing out menus.</p>
<p>"Don't order anything with salmon," Pansy said. "I saw it delivered and I didn't like the look of it." She nudged Harry's shoulder. "If you love me, you'll get the daube with lamb," she said. "Made it yesterday, should be perfect tonight."</p>
<p>"That's my order, then," Harry said, closing his menu.</p>
<p>"You know I love you, Parks, but I'm going with the filet mignon," Draco said. He grinned at her wrinkled nose. "Bordelaise sauce, though, just for you."</p>
<p>Hermione examined the short, minimal selection of dishes, each accompanied by elaborate descriptions, and laughed to herself. "Did they give me a lady's menu? There are no prices on this!"</p>
<p>Pansy grinned. "There are no prices on any of the menus, Granger," she said. "If you have to worry about that, you shouldn't be here."</p>
<p>"You're joking. Pansy, I knew this was an expensive place, but honestly." </p>
<p>Pansy laughed. "The chef insists on having as many ingredients as possible delivered the day of use. She's a terror for freshness and that doesn't come cheap, considering the distance some of the things have to travel. Even with magic, getting cassava straight from Brazil the day it's harvested takes some effort and that means expense." She made a face at Draco. "I'll assume my staff comp is why I have to eat at my own restaurant on my night off."</p>
<p>"I had no thought of using that," Draco said. "I wanted us to eat at a nice place where I could be certain the kitchen was clean and mold-free. Knowing you, Parks, we could all eat off the floors in there. The dishwashers likely live in fear of you."</p>
<p>"True." Pansy dipped her fingers in her water glass and flicked a drop at Draco. "Very well, I'll accept that reasoning. As for the prices, Granger? There's a reason Draco's treating us all tonight."</p>
<p>Hermione tapped her chin and pretended to think. "In that case, a dozen lobsters ought to do it."</p>
<p>Draco laughed into his water glass, setting it down with a thump. "Nice. Very nice. I'll assume you meant a dozen to share."</p>
<p>"Get your own lobsters, Draco Malfoy," Hermione said. "I'm claiming all dozen for myself." She held both hands up, far apart. "I like the big ones."</p>
<p>Harry choked. Pansy patted his back, shaking her head at Hermione's questioning look. "Nothing," she said. "Never mind."</p>
<p>The waitress came to the table with their drinks and greeted them with a bright smile. "Chef Potter, nice to see you. The daube's moving well tonight." </p>
<p>"Glad to hear it." Pansy smiled at the waitress. "But it's Pansy when I'm not on duty."</p>
<p>The waitress laughed. "Understood, Pansy. Would you like something to start your meal?" she said, pulling a pen from her messy black bun. "We have an excellent potato and leek soup, a goat cheese and tomato bruschetta, or portobello mushrooms stuffed with spinach and shallots."</p>
<p>"We still need a few minutes," Pansy said.</p>
<p>The waitress walked away and Hermione turned to Draco. "You know I was teasing, right, Dra—Draco?"</p>
<p>Behind his glasses, his eyes were wide and unfocused, pupils blown to full dilation.</p>
<p>Hermione felt a chill run down her spine. She grabbed at his sleeve, dug her nails into his thigh, but he didn't respond. She wasn't certain he was even breathing. "Pansy," she hissed.</p>
<p>Pansy glanced up from her menu. "Shit. <em>Shit</em>. Granger. Do what I tell you and do not question me." </p>
<p>She leaned forward, her eyes locked on Draco's face. "Put your left hand on his. Don't touch his forearm, whatever you do. Hold his hand. Right hand up, on the back of his neck. Finger tips on his hairline in the hollow of the skull. You'll feel a tight muscle. Press down on it. Press as hard as you can, until your hand starts to <em>shake</em>. Use your fucking knuckles if you have to."</p>
<p>Hermione obeyed immediately, twisting on the bench to face Draco. She settled her hand over his on the table. His fingers were icy, the faintest of trembles in them. Beneath her right hand, the muscle in his neck felt as though it had been Petrified. She ground her fingers into it, pushing so hard she was afraid she'd be able to shove him forward from the pressure. </p>
<p>"Keep going," Pansy said. She whispered to Harry, who clambered out of the booth and rushed away. "Keep going," Pansy repeated. "Keep the pressure up. It'll take him a minute to come out of it and he'll need that."</p>
<p>Hermione watched Draco's profile, her fingers tight around his hand. "What's happened?" she asked in a low voice. "What— The waitress came by and he just— He <em>went</em> somewhere."</p>
<p>"Memory," Pansy said. "He's trapped. He doesn't usually go this deep but when he does, he—"</p>
<p>Draco sucked in a breath and blinked several times. His fingers flexed under Hermione's hand. She ran her thumb over his knuckles and kept the pressure on the back of his neck despite the ache in her fingers. "I'm here," she told him. "Draco, I'm here. I have you."</p>
<p>He closed his eyes and exhaled, long and shuddering. </p>
<p>"I'm here," Hermione said again. "I'm with you."</p>
<p>Draco slowly reached up and took her wrist, pulling her hand from his neck. "I'm all right," he muttered. "I'm back."</p>
<p>"That was a bad one," Pansy said, her voice low. She reached across the table and touched his wrist, her fingers trembling as she drew away. "What was it?" </p>
<p>Draco cleared his throat. "The waitress. Parks, would you please ask them to assign us another one?" He tipped his head back against the booth wall. "Black hair and oakmoss."</p>
<p>Pansy paled. She slid out of the booth, her heels clicking across the floor.</p>
<p>"Oakmoss," Hermione murmured. "What—"</p>
<p>"Bella." He opened his eyes and took a shaking breath. "Our ... training sessions. She favored oakmoss."</p>
<p>Hermione's next breath was almost as shaky as his. Bellatrix. Training sessions. Whatever Bellatrix had been training him to do, Hermione couldn't imagine the woman had been gentle in any way. If the sheer memory of it locked Draco in a trance, one worse than when Harry had started to say Voldemort's name, Hermione didn't want to know what Bellatrix might have done to Draco in their sessions.</p>
<p>She shifted on the bench, pressing in close. He lifted his left arm and settled it over her shoulders to hold her to his side. Hermione nestled against him. "Is there—Is there anything I can do?"</p>
<p>"You're doing it." He took off his glasses and tossed them on the table carelessly, rubbing his eyes. "Just—Just sit here for a minute."</p>
<p>Hermione nodded without speaking. She saw Pansy approaching the table, Harry right behind her with a folded flannel in his hands, but Pansy stopped him with a quick touch to his arm. Pansy met Hermione's eyes, inclined her head, and dragged Harry in the direction of the bar.</p>
<p>Hermione leaned her head on Draco's chest, listening to the thrum of his heart, fast and fluttering even through his suit jacket. He set his right hand on the table and Hermione placed her fingers on it. His skin was as cold as the metal of his rings.</p>
<p>"How did you know what to do?" he said after a minute. He turned his hand over and Hermione curled her fingers around his palm. His thumb moved in a slow stroke along the edge of her hand, down and across the thin skin of her inner wrist before he enclosed her hand in his. </p>
<p>"I didn't. Pansy spotted that you'd ... gone away. She told me where to press."</p>
<p>Draco hummed. "Good. That's something my girlfriend would know. It's not frequent, but it would have happened at least a couple of times over the past year."</p>
<p>"Is there something I could watch for?" Hermione said. Without moving her head, she looked up at him. His skin was paler than usual, blue veins faintly visible in the underside of his jaw.  "Something that happens in advance? A sign that one's going to be bad?"</p>
<p>He shook his head. "No. There's—" He inhaled slowly, his entire torso moving. "There's really nothing to do. I can stop a lot of them in a few seconds but if there's a strong enough scent associated with it, no. No way to tell it's coming. But it doesn't last very long most of the time, never more than a minute. A plus, considering some of the things I remember. It's ... unsettling to get locked into a few of them."</p>
<p>"I can imagine," she said. "Well, no. I can't. I can't possibly imagine. But if you're able to calm down from it with a touch, I'm impressed."</p>
<p>"Pansy figured that out, back in school. Had a bad day and she offered a neck rub. Excuse to touch me, I'm sure, but I accepted. She got her thumbs on that spot and—" He squeezed her hand. "There it went. Everything calmed right down."</p>
<p>"That's an acupressure point, isn't it?"</p>
<p>"Mmm, yes, if that's what Muggles call it. Healer told me once he'd call it diginixus. As long as you can get that pressure on my neck, I'll come out of it quickly. Most of the time you don't need to be that hard with it. It's the touch itself." He slipped his left hand under her hair, rubbing two fingers down her neck to her spine and up to her skull in slow strokes. "Like this. That's enough, usually."</p>
<p>Hermione closed her eyes. He had elegant, long fingers and she wanted to encourage him to keep going, to slide his hand down her back and under her dress. She'd been dreaming about his hands for three years and now that she was getting the opportunity, she realized she'd have to make some adjustments to her fantasies. His hands were much stronger than she'd anticipated. "I can see why that works," she said. "That's nice." </p>
<p>"I like it," he said with a small smile. "Playing with my hair, that's good too."</p>
<p>"You wouldn't think it," she said. "Touching you to calm you down. Doesn't seem right, somehow. You're always so controlled when you're at the Ministry. Standoffish, in a way. Would make most people think that touching you would be a swift way to get their fingers removed."</p>
<p>"That's different. That's strangers, coworkers. Not personal, right? But friends and—and. And lovers. They're far more welcome." He tipped his head down to look at her. "I <em>like</em> to be touched, Hermione. I don't let many people do it. Only the ones I trust."</p>
<p>He looked into her eyes, his arm tightening around her shoulders. His eyes darkened; his head tipped as if he were about to lower it. Hermione held her breath, silently willing him.</p>
<p>"Malfoy," Harry said. "All right?"</p>
<p>Hermione stuffed a very vicious, murderous thought deep into her mind. </p>
<p>Behind Harry, Pansy spread her hands and mouthed 'sorry' at her.</p>
<p>Draco sat up, pulling his arm from around Hermione and releasing her hand. He folded his glasses and slipped them inside his suit jacket. "All right," he said. </p>
<p>"Are you sure? I can—"</p>
<p>"Potter." Draco looked up, face blank. "Leave it."</p>
<p>Harry narrowed his eyes but nodded and set the flannel on the table as he sat down.</p>
<p>"David says he can get us another waitress in ten minutes when Angie comes back from her break," Pansy said, stopping next to the table to give Draco's shoulder a quick squeeze before taking a seat beside Harry. "Why don't you go outside, have a smoke? Granger, go with him."</p>
<p>Draco nodded. "Good idea. Could use one." He slid out of the booth and turned to help Hermione up. His fingers were warm when she took his hand.</p>
<p>She thought he would lead her to the front of the restaurant but he tugged her down a service hallway and through the kitchens, nodding to the workers as they passed. A dingy back door let them into an alley. Draco held his breath and kept pulling, leading her some distance from the rubbish bins against the wall.</p>
<p>When he stopped near a tall fence and dropped her hand, Hermione rubbed her fingers. They were tingling from the warmth of his grip. She watched him light his cigarette and lean back against the fence, face tilted up to the sky. As much as she wanted to ask him about what had happened in the booth, his reaction to Harry had made it clear. The subject was closed. </p>
<p>There were other things they could talk about, and one that they needed to discuss. Hermione lifted her chin, gathering her thoughts. "While we're alone," she said, "we should start deciding on more details about this—" Despite their solitude in the alley, she glanced over her shoulder for eavesdroppers. "This assignment. We've been seen out together, photographed. We were clearly snuggled up in the booth. Think that's enough to be convincing for club-visiting purposes, don't you?"</p>
<p>For a moment, she hoped he'd disagree but he exhaled smoke through his nose and nodded. "Yeah," he said, looking down and pushing a bit of torn packaging away with the toe of his boot. "Convincing enough fake. That was the goal."</p>
<p>He cleared his throat. "The club," he said. "Thought we could go in a couple of days. Nothing big or—or. Or real, for our particular value of 'real'. No—none of—not at first. Introduction, look around, let you get familiar and comfortable with the place. Putting in an appearance, basically. It's been years since I've been there and I know the attendees will have changed. I'll need to take a look at everyone we can, get their faces in my mind."</p>
<p>"You really can remember all of them?"</p>
<p>He raised his brows, expression resigned. "Without question, Granger." He tapped his temple with the two fingers holding his cigarette. "All up here. If I had the slightest artistic skill, I could draw everyone I've ever met."</p>
<p>Hermione pulled a lock of her hair over her shoulder, running the ends of it through her fingers. "I had an idea," she said. "Speaking of our value of real. I thought we should have a signal. A reminder not to lose track of why we're there."</p>
<p>"A go word?"</p>
<p>"I was thinking of something physical." She stepped forward and slid her fingers around his arm, pressing on the tendons of his wrist three times. "Like that. It could be a squeeze or a tap. Three in a row makes it clear it's not accidental. So that we both know that whatever happens after, it's part of the role."</p>
<p>He looked down at her hand, lashes lowered, then twisted his arm and pulled away from her grasp. "Right. Wouldn't want to forget that you're only doing this for the job. I certainly can't."</p>
<p>"Draco." Hermione took a deep breath. "I didn't mean—"</p>
<p>"Malfoy!"</p>
<p>For the second time that night, Hermione contemplated murdering her best friend. She turned to see him and Pansy coming down the alley in a great rush, Draco's top coat over Harry's arm. "Malfoy," Harry said again. "You left your badge in your coat."</p>
<p>Draco shook his head, straightening off the fence. "Problem?"</p>
<p>Harry took Draco's badge from the coat pocket and held it out. It flashed red on his palm and a siren burst went off. </p>
<p>
  <i>Squad seven, all call. Suspect escaped custody. Auror down. Mitchell down.</i>
</p>
<p>Draco swore and flicked his cigarette down the alley, snatched his coat from Harry, and shrugged it on. He reclaimed his badge and tapped it. "Malfoy responding."</p>
<p>Pansy grabbed Harry's cheeks and pulled him into a kiss. "Be safe."</p>
<p>Hermione didn't know what struck her, what impulse caused her next action. She reached up and slung her arms around Draco's neck, pulling him down with her body weight. His eyes snapped open, locked on hers as she kissed him. "Be careful," she said against his mouth.</p>
<p>She released him and stepped back to stand next to Pansy. Draco kept his eyes on her, gaze wide and startled, even as he and Harry both clutched their badges and Disapparated. Harry went in a dizzying spin of color and a soft pop; Draco departed in a swirl of black smoke and a loud, reverberating crack.</p>
<p>Pansy patted Hermione on the shoulder. "Sorry, Granger," she said quietly. "Date's over. Let's tip the waitress for her time and go home."</p><hr/>
<p>Hermione sat on the sofa with Pansy, two empty tea cups on the coffee table in front of them, two iced buns left untouched. Neither she nor Pansy had spoken for more than an hour, both looking up every few minutes to check the clock. They watched the Floo, hands locked together, shoulders touching.</p>
<p>The clock chimed another hour before the fireplace burst to life. Emerald green flames crackled, flaring up high. Hermione and Pansy sat up as one.</p>
<p>Harry stepped through alone, head bowed, a long scrape across one cheekbone and the darkened circle of a black eye under his cracked glasses.</p>
<p>Pansy shot to her feet, both hands out. "Did you—"</p>
<p>"We caught her," Harry said with a sigh. He tugged Pansy into a one-armed hug and rested his uninjured cheek against her head. "She broke into a house, took the residents hostage. Had to fight it out. We got the family out without casualty but it took a toll on the squad." </p>
<p>He shook his head and sank into the sofa beside Hermione. Glasses tossed on the coffee table, he slumped back. "We lost him."</p>
<p>Hermione, still staring into the Floo, stopped breathing.</p>
<p>"Shit," Harry said. "Mitchell. We lost <em>him</em>, Hermione." He leaned forward and put one hand on her arm. "We lost Mitchell. Not Malfoy."</p>
<p>Hermione swallowed hard and forced herself to inhale. "That—that's. That's good, Harry. Not <em>good</em>, not for Mitchell. But for Dra—Malfoy. You know I—" She looked down at her hands and folded them together, telling herself there was no reason for them to be shaking so much. "I worry about my friends."</p>
<p>"I know." Harry rubbed her shoulder for a second. "He's fine. Not even a scratch."</p>
<p>"Is he ... coming over?"</p>
<p>"No." Harry felt the scrape on his cheek, wincing. "He went to inform Mitchell's wife." Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Harry exchange a look with Pansy. "Said, um. Said I should get home. Since I actually had somebody who cared—Who was waiting for me."</p>
<p>"Oh." Hermione stared at her fingers. She tapped her thumb on her wrist three times and stood with a clap of her hands. "Well, that's true. I'll leave you two to it, then. Get all settled down and everything. I'm sure you want to try and relax with somebody who cares about you, and I'm sure Pansy is just aching to check you and—"</p>
<p>"Her—"</p>
<p>"I'll get these." She grabbed the tea cups, stacked them, and gave Harry a bright smile. "Glad you're home and safe. Glad you caught the suspect."</p>
<p>"Hermi—"</p>
<p>"I'm sorry about Mitchell. I'll send a card to his wife." </p>
<p>"Hermione, I know you were wor—"</p>
<p>The tea cups rattled together in her grip and she slapped her other hand over the top to hold them steady. "No. No, I—No need for me to fret about Malfoy, right? We're friends! Just friends. A little worry—but that's it. Not my place. We're not even officially partners in this investigation, all off books." </p>
<p>Her smile wavered around the edges and she forced it wider. "I'm glad he's fine. I'm glad you're fine. I'll just—just be taking these to the kitchen. Good night!"</p>
<p>She left the room as quickly as she dared, stopping when she was out of eyesight. She dug her teeth into her lip and squeezed her eyes shut, one shoulder against the wall for balance. She heard a soft kiss from the sitting room and a long sigh.</p>
<p>"What's with—"</p>
<p>"She's fine," Pansy said. "Don't fuss."</p>
<p>"You sure? You should have seen his face when we got to the scene. He was—"</p>
<p>"Not tonight, Potter. Tonight I'm going to take my Auror husband upstairs, put up a Silencing charm, and show him how much I appreciate his heroism."</p>
<p>"Distraction techniques? Sneaky snake. Fortunately for you, I'm susceptible." Hermione heard a low laugh. "But why go all the way upstairs?" </p>
<p>Hermione clutched the tea cups to her chest to muffle the sound and fled down the hall to the kitchen. Someone to come home to. Someone waiting on him. Harry had that and he knew it. Draco—</p>
<p>Draco believed he didn't.</p>
<p>Hermione set the cups in the sink and gripped the edge of it, taking a deep breath. She had to admit it, he was right to believe that. She wasn't his girlfriend, waiting anxiously for him to come home from a dangerous job. She wasn't even really his partner. She was seconded to the Aurors, assisting. Undercover. Faking it all. Everything she'd agreed to so far, everything she'd done at the restaurant that evening was, as far as Draco knew, to give confidence to her performance. </p>
<p>She had to remember, it wasn't real. </p>
<p>Draco was acting. She was supposed to be acting. She might want to get his attention, might have made some plans with Pansy, come up with some ideas, but she couldn't expect success. </p>
<p>She could hope for more, but until then—</p>
<p>Hermione straightened up and wiped her cheeks. This was to catch a killer, she reminded herself. Focus on the job. Make the lie look true.</p>
<p>That's all Draco was doing.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Outside a crumbling stone wall in Bedfordshire, Draco waited for Hermione's arrival. He'd sent her an owl with all the details of the location, including a photograph for her to study, and a time to meet. He checked his pocketwatch for the fifth time and then heard a small pop. He looked up to see Hermione standing a few feet away, hood up and cloak covering her to the ground, a pewter hook-and-eye arrangement holding it closed at neck, chest, and waist. </p><p>"You made it," he said. "Good. Wasn't sure you'd—" Wasn't sure she'd come, wasn't sure she would actually be there. Despite their agreement, their assignment, he'd wondered if he would see her that night. It was one thing to consider their plans in the abstract, another to go through with it. Other than the owl he'd sent her, they had barely spoken since he'd left their 'date' to respond to the distress call. He hadn't known what to think about that quick kiss she'd given him before he Disapparated. No one had been observing them, and there was no need to act on their pretend relationship. He'd finally decided she'd been practicing, to stay in character. </p><p>Just what they were both doing now. Playing a role. "Wasn't sure you'd find the place," he finished.</p><p>He stepped up to the gate and drew a heavy silver coin from his pocket. He laid it in a small niche in one of the gateposts. A purple light flickered beneath and around the coin, shading into black before fading. The rusty gate creaked open. "Welcome, friend," a throaty voice said from inside the niche. "Welcome back."</p><p>Draco retrieved his coin and stepped through the gate. "Welcome to Chaswell House," he said as Hermione followed him, the gate closing behind her. "Home of the Thorned Rose."</p><p>"I don't see anything," Hermione said, a small question in her voice.</p><p>Draco smiled. "And you won't. Not until we're closer. Bet you can already guess what's keeping the house hidden."</p><p>Hermione made a contemplative sound. "Not a Fidelius. Not trying to keep it a secret, just hidden. Some type of Concealment Charm, making it look abandoned." Her voice firmed up, taking on a hint of the studious know-it-all she'd been in school. "Muggle-repelling charms, of course. It's a wizard-only place."</p><p>Draco hid another smile behind his hand as he lit a cigarette. He'd expected her to be nervous and thought the chance to show off her knowledge of spells would help her relax. Looked as though he was right.</p><p>
  <i>Standing up, her hand stretched for the ceiling in Potions class. Stacks of books piled in front of her in the library. Volunteering answers at every chance. I would have thought you'd be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family—</i>
</p><p>Draco cut off the memory with a shake of his head, focusing instead on the sway of Hermione's cloak as she walked.</p><p>Hermione paused beside what appeared to be a dilapidated fountain. "Right here," she said. "Just past this. That's where the Muggle-repelling charm starts, to fend off anyone who wants to explore a ruin. I can feel it."</p><p>Draco looked at her with surprise. "Really? Most people don't spot it."</p><p>"Muggle-born," she said. "It's not keeping me out, because I <em>am</em> a witch, but it's making me a little anxious. I feel as though I've forgotten an appointment. But not an urgent one, like it would if I were a Muggle. More like—like there was a film I wanted to catch but I can always see it tomorrow, not a big deal if I miss it. That sort of feeling."</p><p>Draco nodded and set one hand between her shoulders, urging her to take a step forward. As they crossed the charm line, Draco watched her from the corner of his eye, not wanting to seem too eager to see her response.</p><p>She reacted as he'd hoped she would, with a sharp indrawn breath of surprise.</p><p>A broad sweep of manicured lawn stretched out before them, dotted here and there with raked gravel circles that surrounded fountains and statues. A long path of interlocked bricks led straight to a set of steps that mounted the small rise up to a wide walkway stretching the full width of the house.</p><p>The house itself was large and elaborate, with a red brick facing, pale stone trim around every window, and matching stone quoins on each corner that jutted away from the main building. More than a dozen narrow chimneys sprouted from the peaks of the multiple sharply-pitched roofs. Thick ivy covered the building from the ground to the eaves in places. At one end, a round column ascended another two stories above the roofline, topped with crenellations and a long, snapping banner on a tall pole.</p><p>"It has a <em>tower</em>," Hermione said with a soft laugh. "Let me guess. They play rescue games with it. Damsels in distress, abducted princesses."</p><p>Draco exhaled smoke over his head, looking at the building. "They do. Very popular, actually. You have to make a reservation at least a year in advance for that, especially if you're going to enact a siege. House provides the costumes, if you like."</p><p>"Really a full-service kind of place, isn't it?"</p><p>Draco shrugged. "With the amount I pay for membership dues, it had better be. On the other hand, everything's included with that. Meals in the dining room, drinks anywhere in the house, full English breakfast if you stay overnight. Plus the expected for a club like this. Lube, condoms, bruise paste, morning-after potions."</p><p>Hermione snickered.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"Condoms," she said. "I'm sorry, but it's not something I expect out of wizards. Such a Muggle form of contraception. Muggle men find them confusing half the time; I can't imagine how wizards deal with them."</p><p>Draco blew a smoke ring and laughed. "They're strange, yes. Don't care for them myself. Tried a couple of times with Aurelia. She had these colored ones she thought would be fun but it didn't work for me. I'll stick with potions."</p><p>Hermione was silent for a moment, then she turned away from him. Her voice was clear regardless. "That's why I got a contraceptive implant," she said. "No fussing with potions, no remembering to take pills. I'm always ready to go and I don't have to carry supplies around. Can take him on a moment's notice." She paused, then added, "And he can go bareback too."</p><p>Draco stumbled. He looked down at his feet, assuming there was a loose brick in the path, but saw nothing. He shook his head and took a long, deep drag from his cigarette. "Good," he said. "That's—that's logical."</p><p>"I thought so." Hermione stopped at the top of the stairs and waited for him to catch up to her.</p><p>He finished his cigarette and dropped the end into a receptacle tucked discreetly behind a low hedge, then walked up the stairs, stopping a couple below her. Draco offered her a smile, enjoying the novelty of being able to look straight into her face. He acknowledged that despite the risks of hitting his head on a door frame, he enjoyed his height, especially with his preferences in women. But every once in a while, it was nice not to strain his neck to look into a woman's eyes. "Ready?" he asked.</p><p>"Is there anything we need to do first or do we—do we get right to it? Where are we going while we're here?"</p><p>"My suite, main hall, and a look around the public playrooms for tonight," Draco said. "But we do need to make a stop first. You'll meet the house manager, since you're new. She'll give you a few forms to fill out and verify that you're here of your own will."</p><p>Hermione made a choking sound. "Is that really a concern?"</p><p>Draco gritted his teeth. "Only for people here with me," he said after a long moment. "There was an accusation, on one of my visits not long after I was released from Azkaban. Someone was unhappy that his partner wasn't paying much attention to him once she started talking to me." He tapped his left arm, over his Dark Mark. "Implications were made."</p><p>Hermione stood still for a moment. "I'm sorry that happened to you," she said. "You've never been that kind of man. I don't believe you're capable of it." She moved down the stairs, standing close to him, looking up. "I will make it very, very clear, to anyone and everyone, that I'm with you because I want to be."</p><p>Draco surrendered to the impulse to slip his hand into her hood and cradle her cheek. "Thank you," he said.  "I needed to hear that."</p><p>Hermione tipped her head into his palm. "It's true," she said. She twisted her head, touching her lips to the heel of his thumb. "I trust you."</p><p>Draco looked at her, his heart suddenly picking up speed. Unable to think of a response right away, he stepped back and around her, going to the door. He held it open for her with a determined smile. "Let's get started."</p>
<hr/><p>They stepped through the door into a small room, more like a closet than a foyer. Hermione stared at the cramped emptiness of the space, then turned to look up to Draco.</p><p>He smiled. "Most visitors don't walk through the front door," he said. "They arrive by Floo, either to their suites or straight to the main hall. More private that way. I'll give you the proper Floo address for our future visits."</p><p>He once again put the silver coin into a small niche in the wall and waited for the purple light to brighten and fade. "Destination?" said the throaty voice.</p><p>"Main office," Draco replied. "First visit for my guest."</p><p>"Madame Berkely is available now. When you're ready, Mister Malfoy."</p><p>Draco retrieved his coin and the wall ahead of them opened, exposing a lift. He stood aside to let Hermione enter first. Once they were both inside, the door slid shut and the floor trembled.</p><p>"We're not moving," Hermione said.</p><p>Draco chuckled under his breath. "We are, actually. This lift is a bit more updated than the ones at the Ministry. This house has a better maintenance budget."</p><p>The door chimed and opened into a room lit by several elegant lamps. At a desk in the center of the room, a young woman looked up. "Greetings, Mister Malfoy," she said. The woman's throaty voice was the same as the one that had first greeted them outside. "And Miss."</p><p>Draco took a chair and the woman gestured Hermione to follow her through one of a pair of tall double doors. "Madam Berkely," the woman said. "Mister Malfoy's guest."</p><p>Behind another, much larger desk, sat a tall, broad-shouldered woman in an elegant red suit. Her microbraids were swept up in an elaborate crown. She smiled and indicated a seat at the side of her desk.</p><p>Hermione sat, fists clenched in the underside of her cloak.</p><p>"You're welcome to remove that," Madam Berkely said.</p><p>Hermione shook her head. "It—It's a surprise. For Draco." Pansy had helped her choose the dress at the boutique, helped her find the long gloves to go with it, but Hermione didn't count that as anyone else having seen the dress. She wanted Draco to be the first to witness it on her. She was hoping for that dark look in his eyes and hoping even more for that soft growl in his voice.</p><p>"Ah. As you will." Madam Berkely sat back in her chair, steepling her fingers. "The first question for any visitor to my establishment is: do you want to use a house alias or appearance? Most of my guests have no compunction about showing their own faces or using their own names, but I do have the occasional day visitor who wishes to remain a bit more anonymous." She tipped her head and gave a slight smile. "You <em>are</em> as well-known as your companion, Miss Granger."</p><p>Hermione shook her head. "I intended to use my own name. I'm not ashamed of what I'm doing here."</p><p>Madam Berkely laughed. "Few of my guests are. Though we do accommodate those who prefer some shame. All manner of entertainments are permitted and encouraged here." </p><p>She flicked her fingers and a form slid out of a carved wooden document rack on the wall behind her to settle on the desk in front of Hermione, along with a feather quill. "Please speak your full name and safeword for our records. It will be added to the house wards and keyed to your voice. If you intend to be gagged or otherwise incapable of speaking, we can provide you with a safe signal should you need one. If either word or signal is used at any time, a member of staff will be with you within ten seconds, and I will be there immediately afterward. We take the safety of our guests seriously."</p><p>Hermione looked at the form and took a deep breath. "Hermione Jean Granger," she said. "Accompanying Draco Lucius Malfoy. Safeword, Medusa."</p><p>Several lines filled themselves in a clear, old-fashioned script. </p><p>"We have other contracts available, should things with Mister Malfoy progress in that direction," Madam Berkely said. She tapped her fingers together, watching Hermione, then lifted her brows. "And as you're here with him, I must ask the pertinent question. As I'm sure he's informed you, we had an incident several years ago. Allegations were made by another member."</p><p>"<em>Blatantly</em> false ones," Hermione said immediately. "Draco would never—"</p><p>Madam Berkely held up one hand. "No," she said. "I don't believe he would. But his history is a matter of public record and it was part of the accusation. I must ask you. Are you here of your own free will, uncoerced and unencumbered by threat, extortion, or other form of intimidation, not limited to sexual, financial, or magical means?"</p><p>Hermione stared Madam Berkely in the eyes. "I am here of my own will. My own <em>desire</em>. I want to be here, Madam Berkely." She raised her chin, filling her voice with every bit of honesty she could pull up from deep inside herself. She spoke with the truth of three years of wishing behind it. "I want to be with him. I want him."</p><p>Madam Berkely watched her for a moment, then nodded. "Thank you, Miss Granger. Loud and clear."</p><p>Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Besides that, you know if I was under an Imperius you wouldn't be able to tell," she huffed. "That's part of the danger of it!"</p><p>Madam Berkely stroked one finger across her brows. "Indeed. But your statement will stand up to an inquiry and that is all I concern myself with here. Formalities, Miss Granger. You'd be astonished at the amount of bureaucracy involved in running an establishment of this nature."</p><p>"I'm an archivist for the Ministry of Magic."</p><p>Madam Berkely gave a soft laugh. "Ah. Then you do understand." A curl of her fingers brought a small booklet to the desk. "Please read the rules of the house and sign to indicate your acceptance. If you refuse any of the rules, you both will be escorted out. You, for your refusal, and him, for rule eight. And of course, any violation of these rules will be subject to penalties, potentially including suspension of membership, up to expulsion and forfeiture of all fees."</p><p>Hermione skipped through the list, reading quickly. "No unaccompanied persons are permitted at Chaswell House, unless waiting in one's room for the remainder of one's party. Couples and multiples are welcome." She furrowed her brows. "I would have thought that single men would be a huge demographic."</p><p>"It is. And if I allowed them, my house would swiftly be filled with nothing other than that demographic. We permitted them in our first year of operation and there were several unpleasant encounters. Requiring all guests to be accompanied has led to far more accountability. Naturally," she added with a soft laugh, "we don't require that said couples stay together in the house. Only half do, in the end."  </p><p>Hermione hummed, went back to the beginning, and started reading. The rules were written in clear and simple terms. Rules on consent—Rule One, No Means No, Unless Agreed Otherwise—on permissible locations for nudity, on safeword usage, on negotiation and levels of play, on conduct towards other guests, and more. It wasn't an iron-clad legal document, but she'd seen similar wording in many case files in the archives. </p><p>Very similar wording, now that she thought about it. She lifted her head and looked at Madam Berkely. "I think you're a solicitor when you're not here."</p><p>"No, I'm not. But my wife is. We go over that list every year and have any incidents re-examined. I'm pleased to say that we haven't found it necessary to add or change any rules in quite a while. My guests are, for the most part, very well behaved." She smiled slowly.  "Except when they're very naughty."</p><p>"Allowable under rule thirteen," Hermione said, tapping the form. She shifted her cloak aside enough to get her arm through the opening, took up the quill, and signed her name on the last page of the booklet. Setting it and quill on the desk, she looked at Madam Berkely. "Is there anything else I need to know?"</p><p>Madam Berkely shook her head. "A copy of the rules is in Mister Malfoy's suite and you're welcome to take it for further reading. If you have questions, you can ask any of the staff wearing the rose symbol. There is also an ambassador couple on hand for first-time visitors, if you'd prefer. They're happy to explain anything you might be unfamiliar with, and can give you a tour. They wear red sashes and will be in the main hall."</p><p>"I think Draco has that in hand. A tour, I mean. That was part of our plan for the evening. He's familiar with your house."</p><p>Madam Berkely nodded. "Yes, he is, though he hasn't visited in some time. I'll tell you the truth, I'm rather pleased he's found someone to bring to my establishment. He's an absolute delight to watch." She stood up and straightened her jacket with a quick jerk to the hem. </p><p>Hermione stood as well, and Madam Berkely escorted her to the door. "Welcome to the Thorned Rose, Miss Granger."</p><p>The door swung open at a gesture. Draco looked up from the newspaper he was reading. He nodded at Hermione as he set the paper aside and stood. "Everything in order?"</p><p>"All is well, Mister Malfoy," Madam Berkely said. "A pleasure to see you again. Your suite has been cleaned and prepped to your specifications. You'll be happy to know that we've managed to locate an especially fine single-barrel cognac for you."</p><p>Draco smiled. "You do take good care of me," he said, settling his hand against Hermione's back. "Thanks."</p><p>"Enjoy, Mister Malfoy. Miss Granger." Madam Berkely stepped back into her office, closing the door.</p><p>Draco gestured to the lift. "Off to the suite."</p>
<hr/><p>The lift deposited them in a long hallway, two other doors visible some distance away from the one in front of them. It was a dark-stained wood and bore a brass plaque with a single letter M engraved in the center. Draco tapped his wand to the plaque and opened the door after a soft click.</p><p>"Do they provide rooms like this for everyone?" Hermione asked.</p><p>"A room, yes. Elite membership gets you a full suite," he said. </p><p>Draco led Hermione into the sitting room of the suite and stepped past her, walking straight to a large antique armoire. He shrugged out of his top coat and hung it up. "We can come here to take a break, use the loo." He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Wash off assorted fluids. That sort of thing."</p><p>He tossed the silver coin in the air and made a gesture in the space beneath it as it spun. When it landed in his palm, it transformed into a cuff bracelet and fitted itself to his wrist.</p><p>Hermione tilted her head, then laughed under her breath. "In case you don't have pockets."</p><p>"Right in one." Draco held his hand out to her. "Your cloak," he said when she didn't move.</p><p>Hermione stood for a moment longer, then lifted her head, settling her shoulders with a deep breath. She reached through the opening of the cloak and unfastened the hooks holding it closed, starting at her waist and moving up slowly. She pushed the hood back, exposing her hair caught in a chignon with two gold combs, and pushed the cloak from her shoulders.</p><p>Draco's knees went out from under him. He dropped into a leather chair with a stifled grunt. Hermione was in Slytherin green. She'd worn a sleeveless, wide-neck dress that stopped at mid-thigh, slits on the outsides of both legs reaching almost to the tops of her hips. Black satin fingerless gloves covered her arms from her palms to above her elbows. Sheer stockings were attached to the tips of black ribbon suspenders peeking out from beneath the hem of her dress.</p><p>She turned to hang her cloak in the armoire, showing her back, bare from a thin ribbon of green fabric across the top of her shoulders down to the curve at the base of her spine. </p><p>Draco sucked in a breath so quickly he was surprised it didn't whistle. "Let me guess," Draco said, forcing his voice to work. "Pansy picked out the dress."</p><p>"She helped, yes," Hermione said. She drew her wand from a holster on her thigh and pointed it at her feet. "But the shoes are mine."</p><p>Draco glanced down. He made a small face. Flat, plain, black. The one thing they had going for them was that they were pointed at the toes and weren't her usual Oxfords. "You ... tried, I imagine."</p><p>Hermione gave a delighted laugh. "They don't actually look like that. They're charmed. I just wanted to see your expression. It was worth it," she said.</p><p>She flicked the wand at her shoes. The tips vanished, exposing her toes and varnished nails, green to match her dress. Straps rose from the sole, wrapping her arches and ankles in thin black leather. The sole shrank to almost nothing; the heels rose into a narrow spike.</p><p>She stepped forward to stand between his knees, wand held low and tapping her thigh. "How tall <em>are</em> you?" she asked.</p><p>"Six, um. Six?" He cleared his throat. He raised his eyes, taking his time to look over the full expanse of her legs, up her abdomen and breasts, into her sparkling eyes. "Six-four."</p><p>"Ah. Pansy was right. You're more than a foot taller than me. Fourteen inches, to be precise." She flicked her wand again and the heels rose by another inch. "There," she said with a light smile as she returned the wand to its holster. "Now it's nine." </p><p>Draco leaned back in the chair, lifting his brows. "You know I don't mind bending for you," he said. "I wouldn't date short women if I objected to that. You didn't have to make them that high if you aren't used to it."</p><p>"And waste all the time I spent with Pansy learning stability charms? I don't think so. I could dance on a spiderweb in these." She lifted one foot and set her toes on the narrow chair edge visible between his thighs. "<em>Now</em> what do you think of my shoe collection?" she asked with a quirk of her mouth, almost a grin. "Still think I have nothing but Oxfords and trainers?"</p><p>Draco swallowed hard. It took him far too much effort not to wrap his hand around her ankle and slide his fingers up to her thigh. It took him far more effort not to allow himself to stare beneath the hem of her dress at the hints of bare leg he could see, at the darker shadow between her thighs he couldn't <em>quite</em> see. He shifted in the chair, closing his eyes for a second to gather his control. They hadn't even left the room and she already had his heart pounding. </p><p>"No," he said, voice a little more hoarse than he wanted to acknowledge. "I admit, I was wrong."</p><p>She gave him a satisfied smile and took two steps back, hands clasped behind her, chin up. "Then I'm ready."</p><p>Draco leaned his chin on his hand, looking her over. Before she'd hidden her hands, he'd noted a slight tremble in them. Not much, not an obvious shake, but enough to make him wonder if her actions held more bravado than she was willing to admit. </p><p>"Are you certain?" he asked. "We don't have to go downstairs right away, Hermione. You can take a few minutes if you need them."</p><p>Her eyes flickered and she exhaled, taking another step back. "Um. Maybe. Just a few?"</p><p>Draco nodded to himself. He stood and took her wrist, guiding her to a velvet-covered chesterfield sofa. "Sit," he said. "Breathe." He watched her until she'd taken a seat, her fingers knotted together in her lap. </p><p>He opened the drinks cabinet, pulled out a short glass and the bottle of cognac, and poured her an ounce. "Drink this. It'll help." She shook her head and he raised a brow. "I also have scotch, if you'd prefer, but you should drink something. In my experience, it gives a little courage."</p><p>She took the glass from him. Draco retrieved another glass, poured himself a much larger drink, and put the bottle away. He sat down on the opposite end of the sofa. "Hermione," he said, after they'd both had a sip. "You're nervous. I understand. Even if you've played anything close to these sort of games before, I doubt you've been to a house like this. I imagine your head's full of groping and orgies and sticky floors, but it's not like that here."</p><p>She shook her head again. "No, that's not—not it. I read all the rules and the information Madame Berkley had. I'm not—" She stared into her glass and took another drink. "The incident you had before. You said it was because you were talking to another man's partner. I'm assuming you were here with Pansy then, so where was she and why were you off with someone else and is that something I have to worry ab—"</p><p>He reached across the sofa and curled his hand around her wrist. "Hermione," he said in a soft voice. "Pansy was getting drinks for us. I was asking the woman about her earrings because I had thought of getting a similar set for Pansy. She took it as a sign of interest and she—she got overconfident. I hadn't done anything to encourage her and I <em>wasn't</em> interested."</p><p>Hermione set her glass on the floor and took his hand in both of hers, absently toying with his rings. He let her fidget, let her take a few moments to gather her thoughts. </p><p>"So you weren't—You weren't playing the field?" she asked.</p><p>"No. I never do." He took a long drink, draining his glass, and set it aside. "I don't come here to sleep around. Maybe Parks has already told you, I don't know, but there are certain things I like that I can't do elsewhere. I can do them here. But I never involve any woman other than the one I bring with me. Some people enjoy that and they certainly get their fill of it, but I'm not one of them." He watched her profile, looking at the way her lashes fluttered. "I wouldn't abandon you, if that's your concern."</p><p>"A little," she said. "But, um. But mostly. Mostly I was worried about other people trying to—to. I don't know? Lure me away, I suppose? I don't want to be coaxed to go off with a stranger."</p><p>He wanted to laugh at her wording, but she was clinging to his fingers, her grip too tight for humor. He wrapped both hands around hers, one knee brought up so he could face her on the sofa. "I wouldn't let that happen," he said. "I don't share."</p><p>She scraped her teeth across her lip and nodded. "And you said we—we won't be doing anything tonight but looking around."</p><p>"That's it. We're on assignment, so all I'm asking you to do is keep your eyes open. First night of an investigation is always light work. Just observe. Remember as many faces as you can." He hesitated, then gave her a quick, tight smile. "I will be touching you, though." </p><p>Her fingers tensed between his hands. Draco shook his head. "No, no. Not—not like that. The sort of touching we'd do on a date. Arm around you, that type of behavior. I just want to be clear."</p><p>She stared at their joined hands. "For the assignment," she said. "That's all you're doing."</p><p>He couldn't identify her tone with how softly she'd spoken, but he nodded. "Exactly. So you don't have to worry. I won't let anyone else touch you. I won't leave your side. I'll keep you safe, Hermione. We're here to observe for the assignment. To gather information. That's all I expect out of tonight."</p><p>Hermione sat still for a moment, head bowed, then she nodded. "Right. That's all. Okay." She lifted her head and smiled at him. "I feel better, then."</p><p>He stood and pulled her to her feet. She took a step closer, both arms going around his waist. He closed his eyes, holding still as she hugged him, trying not to inhale her perfume despite how much he liked it. </p><p>"Thank you," she said. "I'm ready."</p><p>Draco looked at her and shook his head. He dragged both hands up her arms, brushed his fingers up the sides of her neck, and dug into her hair. He pulled the combs free, dropped them onto a nearby table, and untwisted her chignon, fluffing her hair out to fall down her back. "There," he said with a smile. "Hair down, just the way I like it. Now you're ready."</p>
<hr/><p>On the ground floor, Draco brought Hermione to a halt in front of a double door. "Deep breath," he said, smiling at her. "And here we go." He pushed the door open, guiding her through with his hand on the small of her back. The first few feet past the door were clear, then a long leather couch created a barrier. Draco led Hermione left, away from a pair of women wearing red sashes. He nodded to several people who gestured or called greetings to him. Hermione caught a few appreciative looks, though she couldn't decide if they were directed at her or at Draco.</p><p>Draco kept moving, taking her past several small groups of people. "I expected ... more," she said quietly when they paused near a large fireplace. "I read the rules, but still. You get the thought into your head and—"</p><p>"Next couple of floors," he said, nodding to a staircase at the far end of the hall. "Private rooms for play. Clothing required upstairs, clothing optional everywhere above. The hall is for meeting, testing the waters. Checking out potential partners. General socializing, really. You shouldn't see anything here that you wouldn't see at a stuffy Ministry event."</p><p>A man across the room looked Hermione up and down, and she moved closer to Draco, nestling in against his side. He stilled for a moment, then slipped his arm around her, settling his hand across her ribs. "Steady," he murmured to her as the man came towards them.</p><p>"Malfoy, you bastard," the man said, his cheery tone not matching his pinched expression. "Haven't seen you here in a few years. Thought you might have gone and married one of those uptight society girls and she wouldn't let you play any more."</p><p>"Colin," Draco said, nodding.</p><p>Colin gave Hermione a wide, predatory smile. "And who's your friend?" he asked, reaching out.</p><p>Draco's hand was a blur of movement, locking around Colin's wrist. Colin visibly struggled to free himself but Draco held firm. "You know the rules," Draco said in a low voice. "Do not touch without permission." He shoved Colin back a step. "And you will <em>not</em> have permission."</p><p>Colin's eyes narrowed. He rubbed his wrist but walked away without another word. Draco tightened his arm around Hermione, his fingers spreading over her stomach.</p><p>"You did say you wouldn't let anyone touch me," she said, leaning back with her head on his arm.</p><p>"No, I won't. And that's the worst you'll have to deal with tonight. Colin's a dick and likes to push. We have a bit of a history. He was mostly trying to rile me." Draco glanced down at her, looking too low before adjusting for her temporary new height. "I told you. I don't share," he said. "You don't have to worry about any further attempts."</p><p>"Good," she said, raising her voice as a couple passed them. "You're the only man whose attention I want."</p><p>He closed his eyes and Hermione felt a shiver run through him. She settled her hand on his and gave three quick taps to his wrist. She heard him exhale sharply and one of his fingers tapped three times on her stomach.</p><p>Hermione turned to press close to him, her arms sliding around his neck. "Have you seen everyone's face in this room?" she said, her head tilted up to speak against the point of his chin. At his soft hum of acknowledgment, she dragged one finger around the curve of his ear. "Then let's go upstairs."</p><p>She took his hand, lacing her fingers in his, and tugged. He hesitated at first, then stepped up to walk with her at his side.</p><p>On the next floor, the first room they stepped into was well-lit, a half-naked man kneeling on a low table in the center of the room with his arms spread wide, a lit candle balanced on each of his palms. His pale skin glimmered with a sheen of oil. A woman in a black leather corset and trousers dragged the tip of a crop along the undersides of his arms. The man shivered, but the candles held steady.</p><p>Hermione circled the room with Draco, staying silent as he greeted a few people in a low voice, careful not to distract the couple performing. She only turned her attention away from him once, when there was a loud <i>crack</i> of the crop and the kneeling man let out a groan. Hermione turned in time to see one of the candles topple from his hand onto the table, the flame extinguishing as it hit.</p><p>"Oh dear," the corseted woman said with a pleased purr, flicking her long red braid over her shoulder. "Someone's earned himself a welting tonight."</p><p>When Draco had seen everyone in the room, he led her to the next, where several people were examining a table full of various coils of rope.</p><p>Hermione felt her heart fluttering. The killer used ropes like this, she knew, and Draco's sharpened focus had her attentive. She stepped up to the table with him, her arm around his waist as he looked over the coils. He was breathing deeply, nostrils flared, and she tried to copy him, to see if she could pick up any of the scents he was trying to find. All she smelled was a mixture of perfume, cologne, and shampoo from the people around the table, with a small hint of something dry and organic, probably from the ropes.</p><p>After a couple of minutes, Draco stepped back, shaking his head minutely. Hermione felt a wash of disappointment mixed with relief. Maybe their killer wasn't in attendance that night and another woman would be spared a brutal death.</p><p>Draco settled his hand on her back and the warmth of his palm against her skin brought a flush to her cheeks. "Where to next?" she asked, shifting her posture to drag his fingers over her spine. She hoped he didn't want to leave this room, not quite yet. Something had her attention piqued - the various designs she could see on people around the room, the blissful looks on their faces as they were trussed and tied. They were restrained, but for some reason, they looked <em>free</em> to her. She wondered what it would feel like to have similar ropes around her body, and she brushed her fingers across her stomach, thinking about it.</p><p>"Just a moment," Draco said, looking over her head at the far side of the room. "Need to take a closer look at something."</p><p>Biting her lip to keep from cheering that he wanted to stay longer, Hermione followed his gaze but didn't see anyone she felt warranted watching. A few people putting ropes on a few other people, several more watchers, but nothing that seemed suspicious to her. A blond woman in a red lace bodysuit wore a harness of ropes around her torso, her arms folded up and bound to her sides with her hands by her shoulders. Her legs were pressed together, another rope running between her thighs. The man beside her, twisting the ropes up and around her neck, had long hair falling into his eyes. Draco's attention seemed to be on that couple.</p><p>Hermione couldn't blame him. The pattern was stunning, the woman's body on display despite much of it being hidden behind the lace and ropes. Hermione wanted a closer look herself.</p><p>Hermione tugged at Draco's wrist and moved, expecting him to follow. She approached the couple, widening her eyes in unfeigned appreciation. Closer to the woman, she could see the twists and loops of the ropes, the texture of it pressing into skin. Hermione was certain it would leave marks for hours. "So beautiful," she said. "The design. It's so intricate!" </p><p>She turned to smile up at Draco, both arms going around his waist. She leaned her head on his shoulder and gave three quick taps on the small of his back. "Draco? Could you do that?"</p><p>"Yes, I could," Draco said, looking down at her with a slow smile and three gentle taps on her shoulder. "Not this particular design, but I've used ropes before." He returned his attention to the couple, drawing unfocused shapes on her back as he spoke. "I haven't seen this variation. What's it called?"</p><p>The man glanced through his hair but didn't speak, stepping around behind the woman and ducking down to wrap ropes around her thighs. The woman gave a bright smile. "It's a <i>tengu</i> variation. A lot of fun for damsel in distress."</p><p>"I imagine so." Hermione lifted one hand. "I'm new to this. May I touch?"</p><p>The woman smiled deeper, arching her back as much as she could in the ropes. "My pleasure," she said with a purr.</p><p>Hermione brushed one finger over the rope around the woman's neck and across her shoulder to her pinned wrist. She looked back to Draco's face to see his eyes darkened and his cheeks flushed a pale pink. She flicked a glance at the woman, arms tightening around Draco's waist. </p><p>He'd been possessive of her when Colin had attempted to touch her as part of his role. She was feeling possessive of him now, but it had nothing to do with acting. She didn't want him admiring another woman in ropes.</p><p>She shivered against Draco, admitting it to herself. She wanted him admiring <em>her</em> like that, grey eyes dark and a hint of color on his high cheekbones. For a few moments, she let herself imagine him twisting the ropes around her body, his long fingers slipping up the insides of her thighs and around the curves of her breasts to set the ropes in place. If they weren't on assignment, if they were actually a couple—</p><p>She forced herself to focus, tapping her thumbs together in the reminder signal. She couldn't wonder how it would feel to have Draco slowly wrapping her in the fine, soft cords. Not as long as they were on the job.</p><p>Draco ran his fingers through Hermione's hair. "If you like this, it's something to consider, pet," he said, nodding toward the woman.</p><p>He said something else, but Hermione didn't hear it. She didn't hear a word past 'pet.' It struck a chord in her, something deep and needy. She turned her head, nuzzling Draco's chest. "Um," she said, her voice hoarse. "Uh-huh."</p><p>Draco wrapped his arm around her and she was grateful for it. Her knees didn't seem to want to hold her weight.</p><p>"Hermione?" Draco said. "Something—"</p><p>She wrapped her fingers around the back of his belt, stifling a tiny moan.</p><p>Draco made a noise she couldn't interpret. She couldn't think. <i>Pet</i>, she heard, echoing in her heartbeat over and over.</p><p>"Right, downstairs," she heard Draco say. He kept his arm around her and urged her out the door. She held on to him, letting him walk her out of the room and down the stairs into the main hall, to a wide upholstered chair in a far corner separated from most of the activity by a row of small decorative trees.</p><p>Draco sat, pulling her down to perch on the arm of the chair. "Hermione," he said, his hand around her nape. "Hermione, look at me."</p><p>Hermione shivered. She slid off the arm and onto Draco's lap, legs over both of his, arms wrapping around his neck. She set her lips to the hollow beneath his ear. "Say it again," she said.</p><p>"Look at me?"</p><p>She shook her head against him, lips brushing his skin. "Call me that again."</p><p>"What, pet?"</p><p>Hermione shuddered. She dragged one hand down Draco's chest and twisted open the button of his suit jacket, shoving her fingers into the placket of his shirt to drag her nails across his stomach. He tensed under her, sucking in a breath, and his hand fell to her thigh. She felt three taps, slow and hesitant.</p><p>"Hermione." Draco's voice dropped, a rumble entering it. He made a soft noise, his hand flexing on her thigh. He slid a finger around the tip of her wand in its holster, underneath the ribbon strap fastened to the top of her stocking, and drew small circles on her bare skin. "I take it you like that name?"</p><p>She took the curve of his ear between her teeth and tugged gently. "Yes, Sir," she said without thinking.</p><p>Draco swore, his hand clamping on her leg. He shifted under her, the frame of the chair creaking as he moved. "God," he muttered. "Say <em>that</em> again."</p><p>"Draco," she purred. She put her hands on the arms of the chair and pushed, lifting herself enough to change her position. She straddled him, knees digging into the cushion beside his hips, thighs resting on his legs. "<em>Sir</em>. Kiss me."</p><p>He grabbed her waist, fingers tight around her. She dragged her tongue across his mouth and dipped in when he opened for her. He tasted faintly of caramel, cognac, and smoke. Without letting herself think about it, she nipped at his bottom lip. She reveled in the heat of his mouth on hers, the soft noises he made.</p><p>Her mouth stung when he broke the kiss, his head thumping the back of the chair. "The rules—"</p><p>Hermione set her hands on his chest, his suit jacket pushed wide open to let her spread her fingers over the smooth material of his shirt. She kissed his neck, tongue flicking out to taste his skin. He grunted and tipped his head to the side, giving her further access to his neck. </p><p>Hermione took the opportunity, dragging kisses down his throat to the collar of his shirt and up, along his jaw to the point of his chin and back. She nudged his head up for more room, then fastened on his neck, sucking hard over the pulse point. Draco swore again, his voice deepened to a growl. Hermione doubled her efforts, her lips moving over his skin.</p><p>His breath quickened, each exhale audible. "Hermione," Draco said, his voice catching on the word. His hand slid up her leg beneath the long slit in her skirt. One tap, two taps, and his hand flattened out, thumb rubbing up the side of her hip.</p><p>She ignored him, pulling harder at his neck. Beneath her mouth, the texture changed, the jagged black lines of his prisoner tattoo harsh against the softness of his skin. Hermione dragged her tongue across it, tracing each symbol. She drew him into her mouth and sucked hard. His pulse raced under her tongue.</p><p>"Her—Hermi—" Draco shuddered and stifled a groan. He locked his hands on her hips and pulled her closer, her legs spread around him.</p><p>Her body throbbed in response. She opened her mouth, locked over the taut tendon in the side of his neck, and <em>bit</em>.</p><p>Draco bucked under her. Hermione's eyes snapped wide. She released his neck to look down between them, at the bare inch that separated them, at the obvious twitch beneath his tight trousers. The black fabric was even tighter over the stiffening length she realized she could feel pressing to the underside of her thigh. She dragged her hand down his chest, wanting—needing to touch.</p><p>Draco grabbed her wrist over his stomach. "Hermione," he said hoarsely. He cleared his throat and looked behind her. "Jessup."

</p><p>Hermione turned to see a man standing in front of them, a silver long-stemmed rose medallion attached to the lapel of his tuxedo. "Rule three, Mister Malfoy," the man said, arching a brow. "And it's Geoffrey."</p><p>"Geoffrey, of course. Rule three. No public displays in the hall," Draco said, his deep voice turned rough. "I'm. I'm aware. My friend hit a touch of rush in the shibari room. I wasn't expecting that." He looked back to Hermione, a red flush across his cheekbones. "Wasn't expecting that at all."</p><p>"All to the good, Mister Malfoy, but rules are rules. Either take it upstairs or take it to your suite." Geoffrey looked them over, the barest hint of a smile touching his mouth. "I'm sure you understand that we'd prefer you take it upstairs. You're well on your way to giving a good show for us all. Management approves." He made a quiet chuckle. "But encourages more, you know. As long as you're not in the main hall."</p><p>"Yeah, Malfoy," a sneering voice came. Colin stepped around the trees and stood next to Geoffrey, both hands shoved insouciantly in his pockets. "Why don't you take her upstairs? Or don't you play any more? Suspicious, if you ask me. Coming here after so long and getting a good look at us all without doing anything yourself. Not going to share with the rest of the class?"</p><p>Hermione wriggled against Draco, fighting the desire to reach for her wand and hex Colin's mouth shut.</p><p>Draco grunted and locked both arms around her, hands spread wide to cover her bare back, hiding her from view. "How dare you question me again," he said to Colin, eyes narrowed. "Not all of us throw our partners in the deep end on the first night. Some of us actually want <em>ours</em> to come back. Lose track of yours already? Hardly my fault if she couldn't wait to get away from you."</p><p>"You giant son of a—" Colin froze in place, Geoffrey's wand to his neck.</p><p>"Mister Blackpool, you forget yourself," Geoffrey said. "Rule seven, if you will."</p><p>Colin made a spitting noise and backed away, disappearing up the stairs with a stomp that echoed in the hall. Geoffrey nodded once, with finality. "Apologies, Miss," he said to Hermione. "If you—"</p><p>"Home," Hermione said. Her actions had suddenly caught up to her, Colin's appearance and attitude a dash of cold water, and she couldn't believe what she'd done. They were undercover, they were on assignment, and she'd <em>mauled</em> Draco without the slightest thought. She'd had no intention of going that far, not this first visit to the club, but she'd responded to the way his voice had sounded when he called her 'pet' and to that soft little growl when she kissed him.</p><p>He was too damn good an actor, and she'd lost herself.</p><p>She pushed at Draco's shoulders until he released her. She scrambled to her feet and tugged her dress down. "Home. I need to go home."</p><p>"Let's go upstairs, get your cloak," Draco said.</p><p>Hermione shook her head with her hand over her mouth. She fidgeted on her feet, her eyes locked on Draco's neck and the reddening patch of skin around the runes and digits of his tattoo. "<em>Home</em>. Now. I-I-I. I'm forgetting. Work." She grabbed at Geoffrey's sleeve. "Get me to the lobby, please."</p><p>"Of course, Miss. Allow me. I'll have your cloak fetched immediately. Mister Malfoy, rule eight, if you will." He gave a quick, stern glance to Draco, then escorted Hermione through the hall to the doors.</p><p>Hermione glanced back once to see Draco slumped in the chair, forehead propped in his hand, eyes closed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco stood in the shower, head tipped back, eyes and mouth shut tight, to let the hot water pour over his face. He'd dreamed all night of the way Hermione had felt in his lap at the club. The heat of her leg under his palm, the warmth of her hair around his fingers, the scent on her skin.</p><p>Holding her that close, he hadn't been able to ignore the perfume she'd chosen. Deep and musky, a primary note of amber. He recognized the blend, one of his lifelong favorites, though the minor added note of cinnamon said they'd changed the formula slightly since he was a teenager.</p><p>
  <i>Mugs of mulled cider, ceramic warm on his icy fingers. Blaise's deep laughter and Daphne's higher giggle. A slice of orange floating on the surface of the cider. Pansy's green eyes gleaming in the firelight as she licked cider off a cinnamon stick. A stolen kiss and a whispered offer. A hard sweet to take the tobacco off his breath. Snowflakes in her dark hair, robes blanketing the ground beneath a tree, his hands on her hips and stomach and breasts. The pain in her eyes shifting to sudden, astonished pleasure as she took him in. Her nails digging into his shoulders when she arched under him.</i>
</p><p>Draco tipped forward and put his forehead on the cool tile to stare at the water pooling around his feet. That perfume had called to him, reminded him of a moment of pure joy. It had pushed him to ignore the reason he and Hermione were at the club. For a few minutes, he'd tried to erase it from his mind so he could forget Hermione was playing a role and he could let himself explore her. </p><p>He'd stopped himself from that third, final tap because he hadn't wanted to do it. He hadn't wanted to remind her, or himself, that it wasn't real. Every brush of her lips on his throat, every shift of her legs around him, had been intoxicating to him. He'd ignored their assignment and their <em>acting</em> deliberately. He'd wanted her to do what she'd done, straddle his lap and suck on his throat, drag her hands over his chest. He'd wanted her to do far more.</p><p>The narrow dip between her collarbones begged for his tongue. The sweep of her spine cried out for his lips. He wanted to run his hands over every inch of her body and follow that with his mouth, leaving behind his own scent on her as a mark. He wanted to see <em>her</em> eyes widen in pleasure when he pushed into her, to feel her nails in his back as he moved in her, to hear her calling out his name.</p><p>He dropped his hand to his cock, foreskin gliding smoothly down the head, thumb brushing over the glans. Half-hard already from thinking about her, he closed his eyes and called up the night before in full, glorious detail. </p><p>
  <i>Her reaction to his quickly chosen nickname of 'pet,’ the heavy lust in her voice when she bit his ear and called him 'Sir.’ Her spread thighs on his legs, her tongue on his neck. The slow drag of her fingers across his stomach. The throb in his cock when he grabbed her wrist. The fight within himself, pull her hand away or push it lower. His sudden and desperate want to pick her up, throw her over his shoulder, and haul her upstairs to his suite.</i>
</p><p>He braced his right arm on the wall of the shower and leaned his head into it. He concentrated on the weight of her in his lap and the brush of her nails on his stomach, the soft sounds she'd made as she kissed him. </p><p>He stroked himself slow, listening to the sound of her breathing in his memory, smelling the hint of jasmine in her hair, feeling her mouth on his throat. Feeling her <em>teeth</em> against his neck. </p><p>Draco shuddered and gritted his teeth on her name. He came with a grunt, head burrowed into the crook of his elbow, heat rolling across his skin. A heavy salt scent rose up through the falling water before diluting. He sighed, dropping his arm to rest his heated cheek against the cool tiles. </p><p>Ridiculous. This was work to her. If he was thinking about more, that was on him and him alone. She'd never shown any indication that she'd welcome more, not once in the three years they'd been working in the Ministry, seeing each other every day. One undercover assignment wasn't going to change that.</p><p>No matter how much it made him want to rip off her skirt, bury his head between her thighs, and find out if she was the screamer he suspected she was.</p><p>He washed his groin and legs again, and stepped out of the shower onto a thick, plush rug, dripping for a moment before he dried off. Towel wrapped around his hips, he kept his head down as he leaned both hands on the sink.</p><p>
  <i>His eyes panicked and terrified in the mirror, cheeks hollowed, hair limp and dull. The cold of the sink under his palms. Gasping breaths, pounding heart. Myrtle's piercing voice soft behind his shoulder, her ghostly hand on his back.</i>
</p><p>Draco once again forced those particular memories to the bottom of his mind, bracing himself to raise his head and look into the mirror. It was always a struggle, always an effort since those days. But he fought the desire to turn away, every time, and every time he won. He looked at himself, looked at the Sectumsempra scars across his torso, the facial scars from the crash of the chandelier, one long scrape across the top of his shoulder from the final battle at Hogwarts, the faded Dark Mark in his forearm. He looked at his scars and he told himself every last one of them was a testament. He survived.</p><p>This time, he raised his head and his gaze went straight to his neck, to the tattooed prisoner number he'd been given during his first hour in Azkaban. In his reflection, it wasn't visible. It was covered with a deep purple mark, deckle-edged and slightly raised. He stared at the bruise, wondering if he was imagining that he could see the slight dents of teeth in his skin. Hermione hadn't just worked over his throat, she'd left her mark behind.</p><p>Draco blinked at himself in the mirror. "Well," he told his reflection. "That's above and beyond for an assignment. Should have expected that from an overachiever like Granger."</p><p>He pushed away from the sink and went into his bedroom to dress. A half-hour later, he sat in the breakfast room having a coffee and a cigarette as he read the morning paper. The photograph of him and Hermione outside the restaurant hadn't appeared in the <i>Prophet</i> yet, and he wondered what was delaying Skeeter. His warning to the Manor's staff seemed to have been unnecessary so far.</p><p>He adjusted the leather harness around his shoulders, shifting the angle of the wand sheath against his ribs, and tugged a fold of his shirt from beneath a buckle. He knew he should apply a Concealing charm to his neck but—</p><p>He was putting it off, he admitted. His fingers kept creeping up his neck to feel around the edges of the bruise. It wasn't as though he needed anything to keep his memories of the night before, but he found he wanted to. If he waited until the last minute, there was no harm in it.</p><p>He tapped the small badge attached to the right shoulder strap of the harness before shrugging into his suit jacket. "Malfoy, Draco Lucius. Checking in."</p><p>"Malfoy, Draco Lucius. Report to Cornwall field office. Body found. Potter, Harry James on scene."</p><p>Draco swore under his breath, dropped his cigarette into his coffee cup, and rushed out the door to Apparate to Cornwall.</p>
<hr/><p>It was raining in Gwithian and had been for hours. Multiple Impervious charms had been cast over the crime scene, in addition to the protective yellow bubble, but the rain was beginning to seep in. Most of the evidence had already been washed away before they arrived and the techs were huddled beneath an enlarged umbrella, sipping tea and looking sulky.</p><p>Draco stood next to the body, wand idly tapping against his thigh. This one was face down, her long blond hair turned brown from the mud she was laying in. Even with the mud spattered over her, Draco could see the rope abrasions around her torso, arms, and neck. Same pattern as the previous three, and despite the pendant of her necklace being hidden under her body, he was certain it would be another long-stemmed rose.</p><p>He looked at the tech who was taking photographs of the body. "Let me know once the morgue has her cleaned up," he said. "I need to officially confirm the signature. Cuts are probably under the mud."</p><p>The tech gave a distracted nod. "Sure thing, Auror Mal—" He looked up and stopped, mouth open halfway through Draco's name. He stared, shook himself, and returned his attention to his camera.</p><p>Draco knotted his brows for a moment, then shrugged and went to the floating table where Harry was once again making notes on a form. "Cedar, leather, and ashes?" Harry asked.</p><p>Draco shook his head. "Can't tell. The mud is covering any scents. The abrasion pattern is the same, though. Almost certainly our man. I'll confirm officially once the morgue techs have her cleaned if they don't use that horrible soap I told them to stop buying. Can't smell a damn thing over whatever disinfectant that is."</p><p>Harry kept his head down, focusing on the papers in front of him.</p><p>Focusing a little too hard, in Draco's opinion. </p><p>"All right." Draco smacked one hand on the table, knocking pens across the surface and crumpling a blank form under his fingers. "What's going on, Potter? No one's looked me in the eye since I walked on scene."</p><p>"You're a giraffe," Harry muttered. "No one <em>can</em> look you in the eye."</p><p>Draco snorted. "Nice, but no deflection. I haven't had this many people avoid looking directly at me since my trial. I say again. What's going on?"</p><p>Harry signed his name to the form, sighed, and looked up. "You have a perfect memory. What happened this morning?"</p><p>"Started a shower, had a wank, finished the shower, got dressed, had coffee, had a cigarette, read the paper, checked in, came here."</p><p>"Your wank habits are your own, Malfoy, don't share that part next time. But sounds like you skipped something." His eyes shifted to Draco's collar. "Concealing charm anywhere in that routine?"</p><p>Draco paused. His hand went to his neck. He'd checked in with the office and left the Manor in a hurry. The intent to cover up the mark on his throat, the mark Hermione had left behind, had slipped out of his mind in his rush to get to the scene. "Fuck."</p><p>"Nice lovebite, very purple. Goes great with your eyes. I'm not going to ask who gave it to you because I'm sure I don't want to know that it was my best friend. Also, Pansy saw it when she brought my Wellies."</p><p>"Fuck."</p><p>"Yeah," Harry said. "And isn't tonight your regular Snakes Night at Zabini's?"</p><p>"<em>Fuck</em>." Draco shoved both hands through his hair and tipped his head back, groaning. "Potter. If you ever wanted to finish that Sectumsempra job, I'd be willing to hold still for it if you'd do it now."</p><p>"Oh, I don't think so, Malfoy. You get to deal with the consequences of showing up with <em>that</em> on your neck. Count yourself lucky that Pansy had an appointment she couldn't miss, or you'd be getting interrogated right now." Harry shook his head. "I need to get back to the office. You're AIC from here out."</p><p>Draco blinked, distracted from imagining Pansy's gleeful reactions to the lovebite. "Wait. Auror in charge? You're handing the scene over?"</p><p>"It's your case, Malfoy," Harry said. "You're the lead on the investigation. Why wouldn't you be in charge?"</p><p>Draco looked at the sulky techs having tea under their umbrella and the rain bouncing off the yellow protective bubble overhead. He turned back to Harry and kept his voice soft. "I've been under supervision since I made Auror, Potter. I haven't been allowed to work alone."</p><p>"And it's time that ended," Harry said. "I'm making the call. You're well past an evaluation period. Three years as a trainee, three more under supervision? No. You should have been working solo for at least two years now." </p><p>"The Wizen—"</p><p>"Can take it up with <em>me</em> if they have a problem. Think they'll argue with the Chosen One?" Harry tucked his finished form into a waterproof envelope and stepped away from the table. He held out his wand, the tip glowing a faint yellow. "Transferring responsibility of the scene to you, Auror Malfoy."</p><p>Draco slowly drew his wand and held it out. "Accepting responsibility for the scene, Head Auror Potter." The yellow glow jumped from Harry's wand to his and faded. </p><p>"Not that I don't want to stay out here, because I'm going back for paperwork and meetings," Harry said with a grimace. "But the scene's yours."</p>
<hr/><p>Draco greeted the security guard outside the swinging metal doors of the morgue. He stood still for the decontamination charms, lifting each foot to ensure the bottoms of his boots were cleaned, then pushed into the chilly room. Four of the body lockers had red paper tags on them, indicating occupants; a fifth body, the morning's victim, was on the metal table in the center of the room with a cloth draped over her torso and hips.</p><p>Draco took a hesitant sniff before moving further into the room. Other than the usual faint smell of disinfectant and decay, he didn't notice any strong scents. He nodded in satisfaction. The morgue techs hadn't used the cleanser he hated. </p><p>"Afternoon, Townsend," he said to the medical examiner at her desk. "Mind if I take another look at her?"</p><p>"Go ahead," Townsend said over her shoulder. "Gloves, thank you."</p><p>"Wouldn't dare touch without them. Your lecture on procedure and what you'll do to anyone who contaminates a body was terrifying." </p><p>Townsend snorted and returned to her papers.</p><p>Draco stood next to the table and cast his glove charm. With the mud gone, the rope marks were clear on the woman's body. He folded the cloth up to the woman's waist and gently moved her legs apart, looking at the inside of her thigh. The bruise was there, with IV carved into the middle of it. Draco closed the woman's legs, replacing the cloth over her hips and smoothing out the wrinkles in it.</p><p>Two-thirds of the signature were confirmed, but he knew Harry would insist on all of it. Draco put one hand on the table beside the woman's shoulder, leaned down, and closed his eyes to take a long, slow breath. She'd been exposed to other scents, moved from the scene, and washed, but he still caught the hints of leather and cedar in her hair. </p><p>He swore under his breath and straightened up, dissolving his gloves. "Confirmed, Townsend," he said. "You can put my case number on her file. She's definitely one of mine."</p><p>He looked at the woman, tracking the lines of the rope abrasions around her arms and neck, then shook his head and moved to stand beside Townsend, reading her reports over her shoulder. "Still no sign of sexual assault?"</p><p>"Nope. None of your four have been raped. Tied up and asphyxiated, but apparently that's all this bastard wants to do with them."</p><p>"Small blessings," Draco said. "I hate chasing rapists. They're always so fucking smug about it."</p><p>Townsend grunted. "Hope you catch this fellow before all my drawers fill up," she said. "I only have ten spots and I <em>do</em> have to leave a little room for any other cases."</p><p>Draco nodded toward the wall of drawers. "What's the other one? Don't tell me it's another serial."</p><p>"Unknown. As of right now, I'm calling it a possible animal attack. Might have to get Creatures on this one." Townsend looked up at him, eyes narrowed. "Don't suppose you'd be willing to give him a sniff."</p><p>Draco rolled his eyes. "Townsend, you know damn well I don't go around smelling bodies for entertainment."</p><p>"No, but if you can give me a hint as to what kind of animal this was, you can save another Auror a few wrong turns."</p><p>"You could at least bribe me a little first." </p><p>"I am," Townsend said. Draco glanced down in time to see her reach into one of her desk drawers and pull out a tiny waxed paper bag. She unrolled one corner and held it toward him.</p><p>Draco barely had to inhale before his eyes snapped wide open. "No," he said.</p><p>Townsend waggled the bag at him. "Yes. There's enough there for two cups, if you're careful."</p><p>Draco took the bag and tucked it into his pocket. "Townie, I'll sniff anything you want for <em>those</em> coffee beans. How did you get them?"</p><p>"I know someone who knows someone," she said with a quick grin. "And I refuse to give further details to a member of law enforcement."</p><p>"Fair enough," Draco said. He followed Townsend to the wall of cadaver drawers and waited for her to open one. The long metal slab slid out and Draco grimaced. "God, it's a kid."</p><p>"Fourteen to sixteen, by my estimation," Townsend said. She pointed to the deep gashes in the boy's arm and side. "Found traces of saliva in the wounds. I thought maybe werewolf."</p><p>Draco shook his head immediately. "No. Definitely not."</p><p>"You didn't even—"</p><p>"I don't have to," Draco said. "I know what werewolf saliva smells like and there's not a hint of that here." He leaned down, ignoring Townsend's curious look, and took a deep breath.</p><p>
  <i>Uneven stones wet with rain. Deep shadows and dark skies. Ozone and distant flashes of light. Mushrooms glowing under a dead log. A swirl of movement in the tree canopy. Eyes gleaming in moonlight.</i>
</p><p>Draco exhaled, pinching his nostrils closed. "Vampire," he said.</p><p>"You think? It's not typical for them do this much damage."</p><p>"Young one, I'd say. Not turned more than a year or two. Lost its sire somewhere along the way or it would be under more control than this. Who's on this case?"</p><p>"Parfitt."</p><p>Draco nodded. "She'll do well with it, then." He checked his pocket watch and muttered a curse under his breath. "Have to go. Thanks for the coffee beans, Townsend."</p><p>He left the morgue, nodded to the security guard, and made his way through the halls. He walked fast, greeting people in passing instead of stopping to talk as he normally would. He was in a rush to reach the canteen and he was almost too late.</p><p>Hermione was already leaving the canteen, a stack of folders crooked in her arm. She stopped in the middle of the hallway, staring at him. </p><p>Draco raised his brows as a pink flush spread across her cheeks. "Granger," he said, stepping closer to her.</p><p>Her blush moved up her temples. "Dra-Malfoy," she said. She kept her head level, not tipping it back to look up at him. "I have a committee meeting. Can't stop right now. Sorry."</p><p>She edged around him, taking obvious care not to brush against him.</p><p>Draco touched her arm as she passed and Hermione froze in place. "I'm late, Malfoy."</p><p>"Your committee can wait a few minutes." Draco turned to face her and put one hand on her shoulderblade, guiding her to a side corridor and out of the way of a trio of clerks rushing past. He looked down at her, at the tight grip she had on her folders and the slight tremble in her hand. He lowered his voice, leaning closer to her. "We need to talk. About last night."</p><p>Hermione squeezed her eyes shut for a second, then looked up.</p><p>Not at his eyes. At his neck, Draco realized when her blush deepened to a bright red. She fidgeted in place, her low heels clicking on the floor as she moved. "I don't really have time."</p><p>"We need to talk," he said again. "And you know exactly why."</p><p>She bit her bottom lip and took a deep breath before lifting her chin and staring at his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said. "I went too far."</p><p>Draco knotted his brows. More people passed them, stared at them and nudged each other with quick grins. Draco wrapped his fingers around Hermione's upper arm and tugged her further down the corridor, out of hearing range of anyone passing. "Granger, what do you mean? Too far? Shouldn't have in the main hall, it's against the rules, but it wasn't too far for the club. Why would you think that?"</p><p>She lifted one hand, as if she were about to touch him, then pulled back and clenched her fingers around her folders. "Because it's so obvious. I should have thought that it would show over your collar. I know that tattoo does and I should have realized that I would be leaving a mark that showed just as much. And that's something that I should have cleared with you first and—"</p><p>"Stop, stop," he said, setting his hand on her shoulder. "Slow down." He knew he shouldn't, standing there in a public corridor where anyone could walk by and see them, but he couldn't resist. He brushed his thumb over her lip where she'd bitten it. She shivered, looking away, and he lowered his hand.</p><p>Acting, he told himself. <em>False</em> relationship. He didn't have the right to do that. But the reminder that this was all part of an illusion helped him understand why she was talking so frantically about what had happened. She was embarrassed. Of course. Leaving marks like that was something real couples did.</p><p>They weren't a couple. It wasn't real.</p><p>Draco stepped back from her to lean against the wall. "I'm not angry that everyone's seen it," he said. "If that's your worry. I'd have covered it if I wanted to."</p><p>"Why didn't you?" Hermione glanced up at his eyes and back to his collar, the tip of her tongue brushing her lower lip. She reached up again, this time touching his throat for a heartbeat before dropping her hand with a renewed flush on her cheeks. "You've had plenty of time."</p><p>Draco dragged the backs of his fingers over his neck, tracing the outline of the bruise with one knuckle. He'd had a couple of reasons for leaving it exposed. First, enough people had witnessed it at the crime scene that morning that he'd decided covering it would be a waste of energy. At least with it on display, he'd had the entertainment throughout the day of watching people stare and silently daring them to ask about it. No one had, more was the pity.</p><p>The second reason was more personal. He'd enjoyed glimpsing it throughout the day, in reflections here and there. He'd caught himself touching it more than once, remembering the pinch of her teeth.</p><p>"I didn't want to. I like marks," he said, trying to ignore the way her lips parted in surprise. "I figured if anyone asked, I'd say that we got a little too enthusiastic about not having to hide our relationship any longer." </p><p>He hid a sigh, thumping his head against the wall behind him. "But you're right, we should have talked about it first. That little signal you came up with only goes so far. In any case, it's supposed to be a reminder that we're doing something solely for our covers, not a hint as to <em>what</em> we're about to do. We should set some rules about what's allowed to happen. What you'll let—That is, what either of us is willing to do."</p><p>She nodded, clutching her folders to her chest. "Right. We should set boundaries." She looked up at him. "You're coming to dinner tomorrow? After Mitchell's funeral?"</p><p>"I'll be there, yes." He pushed down the small spark of disappointment. He'd considered contacting Pansy and Blaise to tell them he wouldn't be able to make their regular evening, but Hermione's questions were clear enough. He would have to wait. </p><p>"We'll talk then. Make a few decisions. Now I have to go, Malfoy, my committee's going to send out a search party for me." She turned away, took two steps, then turned back. "And I don't think I told you this. I'm so glad you weren't hurt the other night. When you had to leave our date. I could barely sleep thinking about—" She inhaled, both arms wrapped around her folders. "I was happy you were all right. I worry about my friends."</p><p>Draco nodded. "Thank you," he said. "I appreciate it." He looked at the tiles of the floor. "See you at the service tomorrow."</p><p>She left the corridor, her shoes click-clicking away from him. Draco slumped against the wall and ran his fingers through his hair. Worried about her friends. Of course.</p>
<hr/><p>Draco leaned his elbows on the bar in Blaise's flat, watching Blaise read <i>The Quibbler</i>. The photograph on the front told him everything he needed to know. He and Hermione were going to have to maintain that level of acting or the next cover article would be salacious questions about a relationship on the rocks. He wasn't entirely certain he'd survive.</p><p>Blaise tossed the magazine on the coffee table, cover facing up, and gave him an angelic smile. "Any comments, allegedly reformed Death Eater?"</p><p>"Skeeter's freelancing these days. I assumed she'd sell it to the <i>Prophet</i>," Draco muttered. "Never even thought about that one. Maybe they gave her more column space. How long was the article—no, I'd rather not know." </p><p>He turned to the row of liquor bottles, examined the cognac, looked at an empty glass, then uncapped the bottle and drank straight from it, ignoring Blaise's horrified protest. "Right," he said. "I was informed Pansy saw my neck this morning and I'm sure you're both dying to interrogate me."</p><p>He turned around, leaning against the bar, and folded his arms. Lifting one brow, he raised his chin and pulled on the collar of his jumper as he tipped his head to the side. "Have at it."</p><p>Pansy and Blaise howled, applauding and making vulgar gestures. Pansy bent over, sticking her arse out, and Blaise slapped it with a grunt.</p><p>"You're hilarious," Draco grumbled. He rubbed his neck and winced when the bruise responded with a warning twinge. </p><p>"Draco, you know we love you," Blaise said, grinning at him as he dropped into the sofa and sprawled his legs out.</p><p>"Pansy loves me. You're a dick."</p><p>"You're not wrong."</p><p>Pansy settled into the sofa beside Blaise, shoes kicked off and bare feet on the coffee table. "Poor Draco," she said, patting her thigh.</p><p>Draco looked at her, looked at the small remaining space at the end of the sofa, then raised a brow. "Really?" he said. "Does that look like enough room?"</p><p>Pansy elbowed Blaise.</p><p>Blaise sighed, grabbed his wand off the table next to him, and extended the sofa a few feet.</p><p>Pansy patted her thigh again.</p><p>Draco rolled his eyes, but sat at the farthest edge. He slowly tipped over until his shoulders were in Pansy's lap, his head pressed to Blaise's leg, and his knees were bent over the arm of the sofa. "You need longer furniture," he mumbled, closing his eyes as Pansy threaded her fingers through his hair. "I know you can afford it."</p><p>"If someone hadn't shot up three inches in his last growth spurt, this wouldn't be an issue."</p><p>"Couldn't let Bulstrode be the tallest Slytherin in our year, could I? Just not right."</p><p>Pansy tapped him on the forehead. "You're stalling," she said. "Talk about this." She pushed his collar down and drew one nail around the edges of the bruise on his neck. "She did good work, I'll give her that. It really stands out against your skin."</p><p>Blaise snickered. "Never been a problem for me."</p><p>"<em>You</em> have ashy elbows," Draco said viciously.</p><p>Blaise gasped and thumped him on the chest with the side of his fist. "Take that back."</p><p>Pansy shushed them both. She leaned against Blaise, stroking Draco's fringe. "So you had fun at the Thorned Rose?" she said. "Investigating the rope killer? With <em>Hermione</em>?" she added in a sing-song.</p><p>"I don't have to answer you."</p><p>"No, you don't, because I'm willing to drag it out of her. But you might as well talk, Malfoy." She poised one hand, fingers curled and nails pointed, over his ribs. "I know how to get you babbling."</p><p>"True." Draco tipped his head to angle Pansy's fingers to a better spot on his scalp. "Turns out Granger's a better actor than you'd think. She was a little hesitant at first, but she put on a good show until Blackpool showed up and ruined it all."</p><p>He didn't need to open his eyes to see Pansy and Blaise exchanging a glance. He knew the faces they were making from more than twenty years of friendship. "Don't start," he said. "She was acting for the assignment and you know it."</p><p>"Draco, darling," Pansy said. "She wasn't acting and I know it. You need to do something about it. You haven't had sex in three years."</p><p>Blaise choked on his Firewhiskey. He spluttered, wiping the drops off his shirt. "What? <em>What</em>? Are you kidding me?"</p><p>"That's right," Pansy said. "You didn't know? Our dear Draco here has been celibate as a monk for three years. Mysteriously, that's about as long as he's been an Auror and in close proximity to one bookish sidekick, Miss Hermione Granger."</p><p>"And that's about as long as you've been with Potter," Draco said. "So it's because of you. I never should have left you alone with him long enough for you to dump me permanently. I've been ruined for all other women. If she's not shoulder-high, dark-haired, and giving me shit constantly, I'm not inter—<em>stop that</em>."</p><p>Pansy and Blaise failed to stifle their snickers.</p><p>"Oh, fuck you both." Draco wriggled to get more comfortable, hands folded over his stomach. "Fine, so that describes Granger too. What of it?"</p><p>"Give it up, man," Blaise said. "You fancy her. I wasn't aware that you'd been <em>saving</em> yourself for her, but apparently you have been and you need to stop lying about it. It's obvious to everyone how much you want her. Has been since the day you sat on this very sofa and spent over an hour ranting about her eyes, her hair, her—what was the word he used for her mouth, Parks?"</p><p>"Pert."</p><p>"Pert mouth, yes. And her dreadful lack of fashion sense, which we both translated as your immense disappointment that her skirts are too long."</p><p>"Were," Pansy said. "Were too long. Thank god she finally started taking my advice, for Draco's sake. He's always been a leg man."</p><p>"Again, what of it? It's not as though she wants anything to do with me. Never has, not in three years."</p><p>"God, you're a moron," Blaise said, rubbing his eyes. "Of course she'd want nothing to do with you. It's not as though you're inhumanly tall."</p><p>"And attractive," Pansy added.</p><p>"And rich," Blaise returned.</p><p>"And hung like a centaur."</p><p>"Pansy!" both men said at once.</p><p>"What? Draco, losing my virginity with you nearly killed me. I could barely walk for three days and my cushioning charms got a serious workout. On the plus side, Daphne was green with envy." Pansy preened. "I won the betting pool in our dorm that year."</p><p>Draco tipped his head to bring her into better focus. "Pardon? Betting pool?"</p><p>"Absolutely. Hundred points for bagging Draco Malfoy, twenty extra for doing it outside, another ten for stealing your tie. I slaughtered Daphne. It was fantastic."</p><p>"I knew it was missing! I had to order a new one. Snape gave me a week's detention for being out of uniform."</p><p>"Malfoy, focus. Apparently the Slytherin girls had a ranking system we knew nothing about." Blaise folded his arms, huffing. "This explains Daphne's efforts to get me to fuck her in the Quidditch stands. Couldn't figure out why she'd developed that impulse for outdoor sex."</p><p>Pansy patted his knee. "It's all right. She got thirty for creativity in positions." She pouted. "Stupid hyper-flexibility. She shouldn't be allowed to bend like that."</p><p>Blaise went silent for a moment, then smiled, his cheekbones turning sharp. "Oh, right. The Scorpion. That <em>was</em> fun."</p><p>Pansy poked him in the side. "Stop that. I can feel your thoughts and they're very disturbing."</p><p>"You started it. You're the one talking about Malfoy's wand. Talk about disturbing thoughts."</p><p>"I'm right here, you two."</p><p>"Yes you are, darling. And you're sulking because you need to get laid. If you don't at least make the attempt to get into Hermione's knickers soon, I'll be disappointed in you." Pansy tugged at his fringe. "I might even <em>nag</em>."</p><p>"You're not already? Give up, Parks, those knickers are not accessible to me. Never have been, no matter what you say. She's made it clear that we're friends and that's it."</p><p>Blaise groaned and thumped himself in the forehead. "Is it possible that he's actually this stupid?"</p><p>"Entirely." Pansy tugged on Draco's fringe again. "Draco, are you this stupid?"</p><p>"Ow."</p><p>"Yes, he is." Pansy bent over him, holding his eyelids open with her thumbs. "How many times do I have to tell you that Hermione wants you to leave a Granger-shaped dent in her mattress?"</p><p>Draco smacked at her hands. "She doesn't."</p><p>"Does."</p><p>"Doesn't."</p><p>"We're not firsties, people," Blaise said, reaching over to grab both of their hands. "We can work this out, get Draco laid. Three years? I'm surprised he doesn't burst into flames every time she walks past him. We can do this, Parks. We can help him."</p><p>Draco closed his eyes again, one hand in Pansy's, one in Blaise's. He took a slow breath, inhaling the familiar scents. Thyme, oregano, rosemary, a dozen other spices from Pansy's cooking. The dry blend of parchment and inks from Blaise's business.</p><p>
  <i>We're in this together. Blaise grabbing his face, thumbs digging into his gaunt cheeks, staring deep into his eyes with panic and fear, their essays and notes thrown aside. Pansy wrapped around him from behind, her head between his shoulders, her arms locked around his waist. Don't hide from us, don't lie to us, we know what he ordered you to do. We can help, if you let us. We're your friends. Whatever you need, we're here. We can help you. We have you.</i>
</p><p>Draco took a deep breath and pushed their hands away, sitting up in the far corner of the sofa. "That's not going to work this time," he said, shaking his head. "You're both wrong. It's not going to happen. What we're doing is an undercover investigation and that's it. She's throwing herself into it, but when hasn't she gone headlong into <em>any</em> task? Once we find our killer, it'll be over and you'll know I was right all along. We're friends, nothing else."</p><p>He glared at Blaise for a moment before slumping back to stare at the ceiling. "No matter how much I wish it was otherwise." </p><p>Blaise thumped his hand on the sofa, grinning. "We're halfway there. Say the actual words, Malfoy."</p><p>Draco growled. "Fine. Yes. You're right, you dick. I want her and I have for years. Are you happy?"</p><p>"Mostly." Blaise grabbed the magazine off the coffee table, holding it up in front of his face as he spoke in a creaking falsetto. "Now pin me to the wall, you giant pale bastard, and stop me from walking for a week."</p><p>Draco continued to stare at the ceiling. "Parks. Be a dear and beat him for me, would you?"</p><p>Blaise covered his groin with one hand and peered around the side of the <i>Quibbler</i>. "Don't you dare. I have a date tomorrow."</p><p>Snorting, Pansy leaned against Draco's side. "Not worth it, Draco. He has a much smaller target area than you do."</p><p>"<em>Much</em>? You lie." </p><p>Draco laughed. "She's seen us both, Zabini. Think she knows what she's talking about."</p><p>Blaise chucked the magazine at him.</p>
<hr/><p>The following day, Draco stood at the rear of the small crowd in the cemetary, scanning over the seated mourners. Four chairs near the front were left empty, marked off for the Head Auror and his wife. Draco assumed the other two chairs were meant for him and his girlfriend. He had no intention of taking the seat. Whoever was trapped behind him wouldn't be able to see anything but his shoulders, for one thing.</p><p>For another, he wasn't certain he could pretend to be part of a couple at that particular time. He'd done enough pretending at the club and the day after, driving himself mad with the efforts to bury his thoughts. If Hermione hadn't run after Geoffrey interrupted them, he knew he might have—</p><p>He lifted his chin to steady himself. He might have said something that he shouldn't, might have asked her for more than acting. And that was something he couldn't have.</p><p>Draco forced those thoughts away and stared at the coffin, ignoring the cloying scent of the memorial flowers and wreaths. All expenses paid by the Ministry, of course, the final benefit given to an Auror fallen in the line of duty. The family still had a few things coming to them: widow's pension, stipends for the children.</p><p>Mitchell's three children, huddled together in the front row, clinging to each other and to their mother. Stoic faces, quivering attempts at pride, tears hidden behind fingers and handkerchiefs and stiff upper lips.</p><p>He wanted to stride up there and tell them all to cry. Cry as loud as they could, get it all out, wail and scream and let everyone know how much pain they were in.</p><p>
  <i>A Malfoy does not show weakness, boy. A Malfoy does not cry. If you show anyone that you are hurt, that you are vulnerable, they'll take it and they'll use it against you. Never let anyone see you falter. Do not dare to disappoint me in this.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Weeping into a sink, a ghostly croon at his ear. Biting down on his hand to keep the cries silent in a dusty room with a broken cabinet. Curled into the center of his bed, curtains spelled shut to muffle the pained sobbing of another training session turned punishment at Bella's hands.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Chin high, shoulders straight, face empty of emotion. Father's first trial. Father's second trial. His own trial. The whole family is evil, didn't you know. Should have drowned that one at birth, saved everyone some trouble. Tried to kill Albus Dumbledore. Power hungry, the lot of them. Thought You-Know-Who would lift them up, make them kings. Look who's nothing but scum now. Hang them all and let hell have them. Look at his face. He doesn't even care.</i>
</p><p>Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind. He wasn't entirely successful. Every time he looked again, there sat the coffin. There sat the grieving family. There sat four people who'd lost someone who loved them.</p><p>Who'd lost someone they loved.</p><p>Draco took a step back, stopped by Harry's voice. </p><p>"Malfoy. Glad you're here. Say hello, boys."</p><p>Draco turned, face still and blank, and looked down to see two small boys, both no more than knee-high to him, the children from the house the suspect had invaded. She'd taken the family hostage and threatened the boys into obedience, an obedience they had broken once left alone in their bedroom.</p><p>He and Harry had arrived on the scene in time to see the children throwing a bedsheet out their window. Draco hadn't hesitated. He'd bolted forward, scrambled up the trellis attached to the house, and called the boys to him. A boom rocked the house, flames burst through the floor, and he grabbed them both, jumping into the air and Apparating with a crack that shattered the window. It was dangerous, it was <em>foolish</em>, and he would do it again.</p><p>Draco tugged at his trousers and crouched to be closer to eye-level for the boys, the smell of cherry sweets and dog hair on their clothes making him blink. "You're both okay?" he asked.</p><p>They nodded. "Thank you, Mister Malfoy," they said in chorus before grabbing at Harry's hands and hiding their faces against his legs.</p><p>"It was my job," Draco said. He stood and tentatively patted each of their shoulders. "Glad you're all right."</p><p>The boys craned their heads all the way back to give him shy smiles and ran to their parents at the far side of the mourners.</p><p>"Came to honor Mitchell," Harry said. "Thank him for his service in saving them." He looked at Draco. "And the boys wanted to thank you in person. Apparently you can 'jump real far,' according to the youngest."</p><p>Draco shook his head. "They shouldn't be thanking me. I shouldn't even be here." He made a faint gesture toward the coffin when Harry gave him a curious look. "Mitchell should be here. A man with a wife and children shouldn't be in a box, Potter. Sometimes I think the Aurors should be nothing but single people with no family to leave behind. God knows, there wouldn't be many to give a damn if I was the one in there. Better that way."</p><p>"Malfoy." Harry's eyes tensed and he shook his head. "You're wrong. There are people—"</p><p>"No. You have people who'll love you, who'll grieve you. They'll have to hold your funeral in a stadium to fit in all the mourners. I have a few people who'll notice I'm gone and hundreds more who'll dance on my grave." Draco held up one hand, stopping Harry's next words. "Go take your seat with your <em>wife</em>, Potter."</p><p>Harry gave him a long look but walked away without speaking further. Draco looked at the exit, heart stuttering when he spotted Hermione. He wondered, just for a moment, if she would mourn him. </p><p>He waited for her to come to him. She slipped her hand into his and he bent to brush his cheek across the crown of her jasmine-scented hair, straightening up slowly when she touched his neck. "You healed it?" she murmured.</p><p>"Concealed it for today. I didn't want people staring at a funeral. It's still there." She tilted her head curiously and he lowered his voice. "I told you. I like marks," he said, watching her lashes flutter. "This kind, at least."</p><p>He glanced at a few people standing nearby, pretending not to listen to them, and he forced a smile into place. He closed his eyes and thought of that magazine cover, of their need to keep up the show. "Shame I didn't have time to return the favor," he said, raising his brows to remind her to play along. "I like seeing my mark on my woman."</p><p>Hermione leaned her head against his chest and shivered. "That's—that's good to know," she mumbled into his coat.</p><p>Draco resisted the urge to cradle her to him. He was afraid he might never let go if he did. Instead he lifted their joined hands and kissed her knuckles. "Almost time to start. There's a seat for you up with Potter," he said.</p><p>"And for you. Come sit down, Draco." She squeezed his hand, her thumb brushing over his rings.</p><p>"No, I'll stay back here," he said. "People can see over you. They can't see over me." He gave a gentle push to her shoulderblade. "Go on."</p><p>Hermione looked up at him, her lips pressed together, then nodded and released his hand. He watched her walk up to the front and sit down beside Pansy. They both glanced back at him. He inclined his head, assuming they were looking for reassurance that he wasn't running off.</p><p>When the service started, Draco heard none of it. He had his eyes on the back of Hermione's head, on the long curls draping around her shoulders. She used to wear a braid or a bun to work most days, but she'd been wearing her hair loose since the day he'd said he liked it. He supposed he should tell her that she didn't have to do that for him. It wasn't as though anything about their relationship actually mattered. </p><p>He glanced away from her for a few seconds, then found himself looking back. For a minute, he let himself imagine glimpses of a life he didn’t believe he could have. A diamond ring sparkling on her left hand as she smiled and reached for him in the moonlight. Standing with his arms around her shoulders, her head back against his chest, matched gold rings on their hands. Sleeping late on weekends, legs twined together, that mass of curly hair tangled around his fingers. Hermione watching him from the doorway, wearing one of his white shirts as a dress. An infant asleep in his arms, the scent of talcum powder filling his nose as he read case files in his study. A blond toddler playing in another room with Hermione, peals of laughter echoing through the halls. The Manor full of love and life for the first time in years.</p><p>He shook his head, forcing himself to look away from her again. He rolled his thoughts up and shoved them deep behind swiftly-built mental walls. It was nothing but imagination and fantasy, and if he let himself believe any of it for a second, he was a fool. She'd reminded him the day before, in that corridor with her arms full of folders, that she was his friend and nothing more, that anything they did together was acting. He had to keep that in the front of his mind.</p><p>Slowly, he wrapped his fingers around his left arm and gave three taps to his wrist.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dinner after the funeral was quiet. Draco and Harry exchanged stories about Mitchell and they all raised a glass in his memory. After the meal was over, Harry excused himself with a solemn look and Pansy went with him.</p>
<p>Hermione toyed with her wine glass. "Time for our talk," she said.</p>
<p>Draco nodded, glancing up to the ceiling. "Let's go into the garden. Give those two some privacy." He led the way to the door at the rear of the house and followed Hermione into the garden, ducking under the wisteria that draped the short overhang. </p>
<p>"I haven't mentioned this before," he said, taking her hand. "But I've always liked you in blue."</p>
<p>Hermione looked down. His hand completely enclosed hers, fingers strong around her palm. "I thought green was your favorite color."</p>
<p>"It is. Blue's becoming a close second." He brushed his thumb across her fingers and released her, moving away. "Your eyes shine when you wear it."</p>
<p>He looked calm, but she was starting to wonder how much of that was an act. She'd felt a quiver in his fingers, colder than usual, when he kissed her knuckles before pushing her to sit down at the service without him. That same icy tremble had been in his hands when he'd been locked in his memory at Pansy's restaurant. </p>
<p>Just before he let go of her, she'd felt it again. The tiniest shiver in his hand, the slightest chill to his fingers. "You don't have to pretend right now, Draco. We don't have an audience."</p>
<p>"No, but—" He took a seat on the wide, cushioned bench that wrapped around the fire pit and stretched out his legs. "I've thought about it and we need to be more comfortable with simple touches. Small things. We're doing well so far when there are people who can see us. The restaurant, Mitchell's funeral, like that. But I think we should keep at it, even when we're not necessarily being watched." </p>
<p>Hermione stood at the end of the bench and scraped her teeth across her bottom lip. "You want us to act like a couple even if we're alone," she said. </p>
<p>Draco tipped his head back on the bench and closed his eyes. "I'm not saying I want that, Granger. But if we're only acting while we're in public, how long would it be before something blows the whole thing? If we're not completely comfortable around each other, either one of us could give it away. We should be used to touching each other for no reason, like a real couple would be."</p>
<p>Hermione reached out and drew her fingers around the curve of his ear. Draco shivered, head tipping away from her hand. "Like that, you mean," she said. "I don't know if you pulled away because you didn't like that or if it startled you or—"</p>
<p>"Sensitive," he said. "You were too light. And yes, that's what I mean." He stretched one arm over the back of the bench and glanced at the seat beside him. </p>
<p>Hermione sat down, smoothing her skirt over her knees, and leaned against his side. He curled his hand around her shoulder, fingers stroking the outside of her arm. </p>
<p>His heartbeat was steady under her head, his chest rising slowly as he breathed. Hermione closed her eyes and let the sound of his heart sink into her. She reached over to take his hand and pull it across his lap, twining her fingers around his. "I'd given some thought to being a little more ... forward with you, I suppose you could say. Give you more casual touches. I agree, we should be doing that. But in a way I still feel as if you'd react poorly."</p>
<p>"Not to you," he said. "I told you before, I like to be touched. I trust you enough to let you do it. You should feel as comfortable touching me as Pansy does."</p>
<p>"I don't think anyone could be as comfortable with touching you as she is. Pansy's been your best friend since you both were in nappies, Draco. And she's your ex-lover."</p>
<p>Draco looked at her from under his lashes. "You're supposed to be my lover now. If you can't be comfortable with casual touches, you can't be comfortable with personal ones. It rather destroys our cover at the club if you're hesitant to do more intimate things."</p>
<p>Hermione tipped her head back and touched his neck, tracing out the runes in his prisoner tattoo and the bruise she'd left on him. He'd concealed it during the funeral with a charm, but now it was visible again. "Things more intimate than this."</p>
<p>Draco nodded once. "Yes. Precisely what I mean." </p>
<p>"You said you liked it."</p>
<p>Draco stared into the fire, then nodded again. "I was a little startled, I'll admit to that, but yes. I liked it. I wouldn't have stopped you even though it was ... more than expected. It fit the role. Definitely something I'd encourage my girlfriend to do." </p>
<p>Hermione toyed with his rings, brushing her thumb over the wide bands. "I wasn't planning on it. I got carried away. And I realized too late that we went in without actually discussing any boundaries. You said it, too. We didn't set any rules. And we need to, for undercover work. So we should—Wait here, please." She untangled from him, hesitated, then pecked a kiss on his cheekbone. </p>
<p>Hermione went to her bedroom and grabbed the copy of the Thorned Rose's rulebook that she'd asked Madame Berkeley to send to her. She'd read it, reread it, annotated it, added notes from other reading she'd done. Slips of paper stuck out of it in a dozen places; the cover was bent and curling from the number of times she'd read it.</p>
<p>She paused at the door to the back garden, took a deep breath, and stepped outside with the pamphlet clutched in both hands. Draco stood some way from the door, smoking and touching the petals of the star jasmine Hermione had planted. He blew smoke up and over the wall of the garden, turning his head to glance at the door. He gave her a stiff smile when his eyes met hers. "Ready?"</p>
<p>Hermione sat in one corner of the wrap-around bench. "I had some thoughts on things I—your girlfriend would do. Sexual things," she said as she set the pamphlet down beside her. "And boundaries."</p>
<p>She cleared her throat and pushed the pamphlet across the bench toward him. "I'm pre-approving anything I've marked in this," she said. "We'd need to talk about anything else beforehand, but what I've indicated, you can— You can do any of it without asking me or checking with me first. If we've been together for a year or more, you'd already know I liked these things. So if you don't have to ask, then that's less chance of blowing our covers."</p>
<p>She could hear that she was babbling and wasn't sure if Draco had understood what she was saying, but he sat down on the bench, pulled the pamphlet over, and flipped it open. He read quickly, going through the entire thing and looking at her extra notes. "This is—" He closed his eyes for a moment, then took a slow and deliberate breath, flicking the end of his cigarette into the fire pit. "This is much further than I would have asked you to go, Hermione."</p>
<p>He opened his eyes and looked at her. "<em>Much</em> further. And I couldn't help but notice there were several things you marked that would—That <em>you</em> would be doing. To me."</p>
<p>Hermione nodded. "Your girlfriend would do that. All of that. I'll do any of it if you want, to—to maintain cover."</p>
<p>His eyes darkened as she watched, color rising in his cheeks. He set the pamphlet aside and knotted his hands together, brushing his thumb over his rings. "That's too much to ask," he said in a low voice. "You're not even an Auror, you're basically doing me a favor for this investigation, and I won't ask you to do any of this."</p>
<p>"You're not asking me," Hermione said. "I'm telling you that you don't need to."  She shifted, stretching her hand out to rest on his wrist. "As far as anyone knows, I'm your girlfriend and I have been for over a year, and we've been doing all of this already. You don't have to ask. You have permission for any of it, Draco."</p>
<p>Draco opened his grip and caught her hand between his. Without speaking, he brought her arm to his mouth and licked the inside of her wrist. Hermione gasped and instinctively tried to jerk her arm back but he held tight, fingers wrapped around her wrist. </p>
<p>He licked her again, his lips touching her arm as he spoke. "If you react with that kind of surprise to something that small, there's no possibility that you'd be able to handle anything on this list of yours."</p>
<p>"We should practice, then." She hadn't intended to say that, but the heat of Draco's tongue on her skin had started those little sparks in her mind, the same sparks she'd felt when she kissed him outside the restaurant. She met his eyes and drew her fingers along the line of his jaw. "The same as casual touching. So we both react as if we're old hands at it. Act like it's all familiar to us. We should do what we're claiming we've done."</p>
<p>Draco's jaw tightened, a muscle jumping in his cheek. "Are you suggesting that we have sex for the purposes of pretending we've <em>been</em> having sex?"</p>
<p>"N—no! Not that far." Hermione tried to center herself but Draco's firm grip on her wrist and the dark shade of his eyes was doing odd things to her brain. "Not have sex. Just—just practice. Some of the other things."</p>
<p>"Practice." Draco's voice dropped into that low pitch that made her body tighten up. He shifted his grip and dragged her fingers across his mouth. "Practice what, specifically?"</p>
<p>"I don't—" Her mouth went dry. She licked her lips and swallowed hard. Pansy's advice to be direct and aggressive with him was more difficult to put in motion than she'd realized. Draco was watching her, his eyes getting darker by the second, and she had to concentrate on her words. "Just practice. I really think we should. And I thought, maybe." She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and met his eyes. "I thought we should start now."</p>
<p>Pansy had been right, Hermione determined. A direct invitation was what Draco had needed to hear. A red flush spread down his neck and he swallowed hard. </p>
<p>"Now," he said. He shoved across the bench, pinning her to the back of it. Tipping his head, he growled against her ear. "Now, Hermione? Practice what?"</p>
<p>Hermione shivered, head falling back against the cushion. She'd marked so many things in that pamphlet and she couldn't think of a single one. All she could do was arch up and wrap her hands around his back, her fingers clinging to his shoulderblades.</p>
<p>Draco took the shell of her ear between his teeth and tugged before nudging her head to the side. He breathed down her jaw to her throat. </p>
<p>Hermione whimpered, turning her head to give him more room.</p>
<p>His lips brushed her skin and he paused. "Hermione," he whispered. "What do you want to practice? Right here and now."</p>
<p>"God," she moaned, fingers digging into his shoulders. "Draco, please." She tugged at his shirt. She wanted him closer.</p>
<p>Draco settled his hands around her waist and pulled, sliding her onto her back beneath him. One knee between her calves, one hand by her hip, he looked down at her. </p>
<p>Hermione watched through her lashes as he slowly moved over her on all fours, his gaze traveling up her body. "Tell me," he rumbled, meeting her eyes. "What do you want me to do to you?"</p>
<p>Hermione trembled. She dragged the neckline of her dress aside, exposing the curve of her shoulder and collarbone. "Mark me," she whispered.</p>
<p>His eyes flashed to almost black as he pulled her hand away. Lacing their fingers together, he dipped his head and kissed her throat. He worked from one side to the other and down into the hollow at the base of her neck, where he lingered with his tongue exploring her skin.</p>
<p>Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as Draco licked along the ridge of her collarbone. When he reached the end and blew a cool stream of air over the wet skin back to her throat, she fought to hold back a moan.</p>
<p>He brushed his fringe over her neck, pushing her thighs apart with his knee as he lowered his body and trapped one of her legs between his. Dropping his head to her shoulder, he sucked hard on the curve of her neck.</p>
<p>Hermione shuddered beneath him. She smoothed her hand down his back, clinging to his shirt at his waist. The sheer size of him made her brain go blank. He had her fully covered, his weight pressing her into the cushions. He slid one hand around her side, thumb brushing her ribs, and Hermione couldn't fight off her trapped moan any longer. </p>
<p>She pulled Draco's shirt from the back of his trousers to set her hand on his spine, the heat of his skin searing her palm. "More," she mumbled, shaking her hand free of his to press his head to her throat. "Draco, please. Harder."</p>
<p>Swearing softly, he dug his fingers into the hollow behind her knee to bend it up beside him and shoved his other hand into her hair, wrapping it around his fingers. He sank his teeth into her neck with a soft growl, hips pressing down.</p>
<p>Hermione's eyes flew open. Each time Draco sucked on her neck, he ground against her, and there was no mistaking that he was aroused. She stuffed her fist into her mouth to muffle her shriek as Draco bit deeper, his erection solid against her thigh. "Draco, you— I can feel— God, you're hard." </p>
<p>Draco went still over her. He sighed into her throat, then pushed up onto his elbows. His face went blank, pupils contracting in a heartbeat. "You know I can't stop that." His deep voice held a rough edge. "Even if it's only practice."</p>
<p>Hermione bit her lip and nodded. She searched the pale grey of his eyes, looking for any hint of his thoughts, but it was as if he'd built a wall in his mind. "It's—it's. It's to be expected. Stimulation. Brain and body doing two different things. It's involuntary."</p>
<p>"Right. Involuntary stimulation." Draco untangled from her legs and sat back, hands dangling between his knees. </p>
<p>Hermione tugged the collar and skirt of her dress into place as she sat up. She patted at her hair but knew it was already hopelessly mussed. "Arousal," she said, trying to calm her breathing. "It's likely to happen. If we're doing sexual things at the club. So—So we both acknowledge it could happen, even for practice."</p>
<p>"There's no 'could' about it." He rubbed both hands over his face and growled into his palms before digging in his back pocket for his cigarettes and lighting one with a snap of his fingers. Exhaling through his nose, he set the silver case on the bench and aimed twin streams of smoke at the fire pit. "I didn't want to bring this topic up if I could help it, but since you're setting your boundaries much further than I expected, I think I should, to avoid surprises. The things on your approved list will definitely— If we're doing them, I'm going to get hard. Can't really tell my body it's all fake."</p>
<p>Elbows resting on his knees, he tucked the cigarette in the corner of his mouth and spun one of his rings around. "And, er. There's no way to put this delicately. I'm not a small man."</p>
<p>"You're over six feet tall, Draco, I'm well aware that you're not—"</p>
<p>Hermione stopped in mid-sentence as Draco cleared his throat and made a gesture toward his lap. She followed the movement, realized what he was indicating, and looked away. "Oh."</p>
<p>"I've never dated a woman as small as you before," he said. He rubbed his jaw, brows furrowing. "We would have had to do a lot of adjusting if we were actually together. On your side, at least, as you can imagine."</p>
<p>Hermione stared into the fire, not willing to trust herself to answer for the moment. She'd imagined it. She'd imagined it hundreds of times over the past three years. She'd accounted for his height, mostly accounted for his weight, but she hadn't considered this particular aspect. "You're saying you're—"</p>
<p>"I'm saying, without any bragging whatsoever, that I am well-endowed." Draco blew a smoke ring over the firepit. "And I'm telling you this because— If we should happen to need to go that far at the club, I'm fairly certain screaming 'that thing will never fit' would give the game away."</p>
<p>"Then I should see it."</p>
<p>Draco whipped his head around to stare at her. "What? <em>Now</em>?"</p>
<p>Hermione clapped both hands over her mouth. "Oh god, Draco. I could have phrased that better. I meant." She dropped her hands and took a deep breath. "I meant, the next time we go to the club. Before we leave the suite. I think I should—I've <em>felt</em> a couple of times, so I should see. So there aren't any surprises."</p>
<p>"Ah. So not now." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Thank fuck for that. Would be exactly the moment that Potter would walk out here. Or worse, Pansy." </p>
<p>"No, not now. But we should." She stopped herself from asking if it was all right. Direct and aggressive, she reminded herself. "We should both be prepared."</p>
<p>He shrugged one shoulder after a long moment. "Might as well. I'm certainly not shy. That's half the reason I go to the club. Next time we're there, then." </p>
<p>They sat in silence for a few minutes. Draco stared into the fire and smoked, the color in his cheeks rising. Hermione didn't dare to ask what he was thinking. She was trying <em>not</em> to think of proportions, adjustments, and a years-long fantasy finally within reach. </p>
<p>When Draco finished his cigarette, he flicked the end into the fire pit and stood, turning his back to tuck his shirt into his trousers. "Right," he said. He ran one hand through his hair. "I should be off. Don't think I'm up for any further practicing tonight."</p>
<p>Hermione watched him tap the back of his neck, three times. Her hand went to her throat, to the heat and swelling she could already feel. "Draco," she said.</p>
<p>He looked down at her. She closed her eyes and shook her head. What would she say? Thank you for the lovebite? For the practice? For getting an erection despite knowing it wasn't real? For the plan to see him naked at the club? She couldn't say any of it. "Never mind. I'll see you at work tomorrow."</p>
<p>He bent over and touched his lips to her temple. "Goodbye kiss for my girlfriend," he said before straightening up and patting her shoulder. "Night, Granger."</p><hr/>
<p>Even a charm didn't do much to help the tangle Draco had made of her hair as he pressed her into the bench cushions. Hermione rolled her hair into a bun and shoved her wand through it, stepping into the house. She went into the kitchen and to the sink to start the dishes, needing to do something with her hands. She could still feel the heat of Draco's skin on her palm.</p>
<p>Harry came in a few minutes later and found a dish towel in a drawer before taking the plate she handed him. "Malfoy left here in a bit of a rush," he said without looking at her. He dried the plate with slow, absent circles. "Seemed frustrated about something. Is everything going all right with you two?"</p>
<p>"Fine. Everything's fine. We're—" She focused on scrubbing a spot of dried sauce off the plate she held. "We're getting more familiar with each other. So we can be better at pretending to be dating. Don't want to give things away and ruin the investigation."</p>
<p>"Seems like you're doing a little more than pretending." Harry glanced sideways at her and back to the window over the sink. "Since he's been parading around with a very obvious lovebite for a couple of days. And I think you're going to have your own tomorrow."</p>
<p>Hermione's cheeks flushed and she ducked her head, scrubbing harder. "We've discussed it, Harry. If we've been a couple for over a year, we obviously would have been physical with each other long before now, just very discreet. But since we were discovered we're not hiding it any longer."</p>
<p>"I didn't think you pretending to be his girlfriend would mean you two would actually be doing 'physical' things," Harry said. He set the plate on the counter. "Especially when you're not at the club. He's not pushing you into anything, is he?"</p>
<p>Hermione turned her head to stare at him as she fished a fork out of the water. "What on earth would make you think that?"</p>
<p>Harry rubbed the back of his neck with the towel. "It's just a question."</p>
<p>"No, it's not." She dropped the fork with a splash of bubbles. "It's a pointed question, Harry James Potter." </p>
<p>"Hermione, I don't—" Harry leaned against the counter and folded his arms with a sigh. "Look, I trust the man at work. He's proven himself, as far as I'm concerned. But with you, there's something else—"</p>
<p>"Go ahead." Hermione narrowed her eyes when he stopped speaking. "Do it, Harry. Accuse Draco of using the Imperius to get me to sleep with him. I dare you."</p>
<p>"That's not what I was going to say and I can't believe you'd think I would."</p>
<p>"Why not? That's what some people seem to think. The manager of the Thorned Rose certainly made that clear enough when she asked me if I was with him of my own free will." Hermione shook her head, holding her bun in place as it loosened from the force. "We haven't done one thing so far that I didn't instigate. If you have a problem with the way he's running his investigation, you can ask <em>him</em> if he's pushing me."</p>
<p>Harry took his glasses off and rubbed them on the hem of his shirt. "Hermione, I'm not asking as his supervisor or as the Head Auror. I'm asking as your best friend. He showed up to a crime scene with a bruise on his neck that you gave him. He's obviously given you one in return. Then there was that <em>kiss</em> outside the restaurant—I saw the <i>Quibbler</i> photograph and that didn't look like acting to me. And after, when he didn't come back with me—" </p>
<p>"Stop, Harry." She gripped the edge of the sink with both hands. "We're acting. We're making it look as real as we can."</p>
<p>Harry watched her in silence for a few moments. "You're making it look a little too real, as far as I can tell." He took a deep breath as he slipped his glasses onto his nose. "Hermione. Are you sure this is work for you?"</p>
<p>Hermione stuffed her wand more firmly through her hair and turned her attention back to the dishes. "It's work. It's an assignment. We're undercover as a couple and that's all there is to it."</p>
<p>Harry looked away from her. "If that's how you want it." He hesitated, then rested his hand on her forearm. "I want you to be happy, Hermione."</p>
<p>She nodded, eyes on her hands as she felt through the bubbles. "Everything's fine. We're working things out. It's all for the investigation. So you don't need to fuss. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to finish these dishes alone."</p>
<p>"All right." He squeezed her arm and walked away. </p>
<p>Hermione looked over her shoulder to make certain he'd left, and saw him standing at the door. He met her eyes. "If you're happy with how things are with Malfoy, then all right. But I hope you aren't lying to yourself," he said quietly. "Good night, Hermione."</p><hr/>
<p>Hermione made a face at Harry's office door. After what he'd said to her the night before, breakfast had been awkward, but over the course of the meal, they'd both made tentative overtures—Pass the sausage, please. These eggs are delicious, aren't they? Yes, very good. Are you done with the juice?—and swept the tension of their conversation under the rug. They were back to normal. Everything was fine. </p>
<p>She pushed the door open with her shoulder, arms full of folders. "Harry, Malfoy's not in his cubicle. Do you know where he—"</p>
<p>"Hold on." Harry stared intently at the parchment on his desk, sighed, and signed it. "Damn thing was charmed to start over at the beginning if I didn't read it in one go," he said. "As I finally figured out the third time I tried. The Committee on Experimental Charms think they're hilarious."</p>
<p>He tossed the parchment to the outbox on the corner of his desk and slouched back in his chair. "Found something for Malfoy's case? If he's not in his cubicle, he's probably in conference room four. He's commandeered that for his investigation. Apparently it was too annoying to have the trainees lurking around his desk."</p>
<p>He glanced up and Hermione took a step back as his eyes went straight to her neck. "Are those <em>teeth marks</em>?" he asked in a horrified tone. "I didn't see those last night."</p>
<p>Hermione adjusted the silk scarf she'd tied around her neck that morning. Draco had stayed low on her throat, and she thought he might have done so on purpose, to give her more chance to cover it. </p>
<p>She didn't intend to keep it covered from him. She wanted to see Draco's reaction when he saw his mark on her neck. </p>
<p>Harry's reaction hadn't been part of the plan. "He's my boyfriend, Harry," she said with a lift of her brows. "Everyone knows now, remember? We talked about this."</p>
<p>Harry rubbed his eyes and sighed. "Right. That's what we talked about." He dragged another parchment out of his inbox and focused on it. "We both have work to do, then. Conference room four."</p>
<p>Hermione backed out of the office and turned down the hall to the conference rooms. Room four was empty. Two large whiteboards were covered with photographs from the crime scenes and notes in three different handwritings. The table was piled with folders, crumpled wads of paper, abandoned coffee cups, crisp packets, sweet wrappers, and take-away boxes. </p>
<p>Hermione set her folders down on the table and collected all the boxes and rubbish, stuffing them into a bin that was already near-full. She grimaced at the dirty coffee mugs and gathered them together on a filing cabinet. At one end of the table, a black suit jacket was draped across the back of a chair. Hermione smoothed out a wrinkle in the lapel, wondering if she was imagining that she could feel the heat of Draco's body still on the fine-woven wool.</p>
<p>She peered at the photographs, moving along the line slowly. Of the four victims, the sole connecting factor she could see was the rope marks on their bodies and the bruises and Roman numerals on their inner thighs. </p>
<p>She heard Draco's deep voice outside the door and moved away from the board, hands tucked behind her back. He stepped into the room, head turned away as he spoke to someone in the hall. Hermione was suddenly grateful for that. She didn't think she could explain how far her jaw had dropped.</p>
<p>Draco stood there, a coffee cup in his left hand, with his sleeves rolled to his elbows and the harness for his wand holster over his white shirt. Hermione couldn't take her eyes off him. She knew he had the Dark Mark on his left forearm but on his right arm was something she hadn't expected. Stretching from his wrist halfway to his elbow was a tattoo of a constellation in black ink. The black head of a serpent peeked out from under his rolled cuff. </p>
<p>He turned to step into the room and stopped. "Hermione," he said, flicking a quick glance at her neck before pulling the door halfway closed behind him. "Didn't expect to see you here."</p>
<p>"Tattoos." She thumped herself in the forehead. "Files. I brought up some files from the archives."</p>
<p>He chuckled under his breath and came closer to her, extending his right arm. "You haven't seen these, have you? Take a good look. One guess what the constellation is."</p>
<p>Hermione drew the tip of one finger over the stars without touching his arm. "Draco," she said, looking up to him. "It's Draco, of course."</p>
<p>"Someone paid attention in Astronomy class." He leaned against the table and sipped his coffee. "Had to do it. Man's named after a constellation, it's almost required, wouldn't you say?"</p>
<p>"And this?" she said, fingers hovering over the serpent's head. "For Slytherin?"</p>
<p>"Not really, though I don't stop people from thinking that. My tattooist had a new technique he wanted to test, so it was a gift. It moves when you touch it." He watched her for a moment, then shifted so her fingers brushed his skin. The snake's tongue flicked out and down the length of his arm, twining through the stars and licking his wristbone.</p>
<p>"Don't be shy about it," Draco murmured. He brought his hand up and pushed a piece of hair behind her ear, fingers drifting down her jaw. "We talked about this. Everything needs to look real. We need to be able to predict how the other would react to little touches as well as intimate things."</p>
<p>Hermione nodded. She took his hand, turning his arm so the constellation was upright, then drew one finger from the tail to the uneven lines of the head. "I would trace this a lot," she said. She moved to stand between his feet, her back against him, and pulled his arm around her. She stared off into the distance, her hand moving along his forearm to stroke around the tattoo, then up to pat the snake's head and make the long forked tongue flick out. "Like this. As if I didn't even realize I was doing it."</p>
<p>She felt him take a deep breath. His fingers moved against her side, flattening out to curl around her waist. His breath stirred her hair and she felt his mouth touch the top of her head. "Unconscious things," he murmured. "Habits. A year of knowing what we like." </p>
<p>Hermione hummed and twisted enough to tip her head up to him. "I like that," she said when Draco dipped down and brushed the corner of her mouth. She turned in his arms, pushing onto her toes with one hand on his chest, and tugged the scarf away from her neck with the other. Tapping the bruise, she watched his eyes. "I like this too."</p>
<p>Under her hand, his breath quickened and his heart raced as he stared at her neck. She dragged her finger over the indents of his teeth and Draco's eyes went dark.</p>
<p>Hermione locked her hands behind his neck, tugging him down for a kiss. "Even when we're alone," she said against his mouth. "That's what we agreed to do."</p>
<p>"We're back, Auror Malf—oh. Want us to come back later?" said a woman with a soft laugh.</p>
<p>Draco's arm tightened around her waist, a slight growl escaping him as two Auror trainees edged into the room. </p>
<p>Hermione dropped down and stepped away to fix her scarf. "Now, Malfoy," she said, flashing a grin up at him. "Just because everyone knows doesn't mean we can fraternize at work."</p>
<p>Draco reclaimed his coffee, sniffed it, and grimaced. He drew his wand from the holster and tapped it on the rim of the mug with a muttered warming charm. "Thought we'd have another few minutes alone," he said as he sat in the chair with his suit jacket over the back. "But apparently my trainees are very efficient at getting lunch orders. Hermione Granger, meet Auror Trainees Cotterill and Choudhury."</p>
<p>Hermione moved around the table to the folders she'd set down earlier. The women smiled at her as they unpacked fresh boxes of take-away. "Welcome to join us, Miss Granger," Cotterill said. "If you can stand talking bodies and mayhem over a meal. We're having Greek today."</p>
<p>Hermione gave an honest laugh. "I put up with shop talk at dinner all the time," she said. "Spanokopita, if you have it."</p>
<p>Choudhury pushed a box over to her. "Vegetarian moussaka for me, vegetarian dolmadakia for Cotterill, and a triple order of lamb kebab for Malfoy." She spun a box down the table to him. "Who lost the coin toss on where we went but stumped up regardless."</p>
<p>Draco pushed the box aside, spreading folders in front of him instead. Hermione took the coffee cup away from his hand and set the box in its place. Draco rolled his eyes but opened the box, absently gnawing at one of the kebabs as he scanned his files. "Right, Cotterill," he said. "What did you find in Leeds?"</p>
<p>"No witnesses to the body dump because murderers are terribly inconsiderate," she said. "But I did make an ID on the vic. Showed her picture to every shop clerk in the wizarding community and finally got a hit."</p>
<p>Draco blinked. "Say again?"</p>
<p>Cotterill made a face. "You were right, sir. The field office in Yorkshire is useless. I'll give them a little bit of credit because we didn't know this was a serial case yet, but still. They barely tried. They went around with a physical description but didn't bother to take a photograph. A dark-haired woman in her twenties? That could be any number of people." She gestured around the table. "There's three right here."</p>
<p>"Same for me," Choudhury said with a wave of her fork. "Physical description, no photograph. Red hair and mid-twenties. Not helpful at all." She shook her head. "Not to speak out of turn, sir, but that entire office needs retrained."</p>
<p>"Retired," Draco said. "The Yorkshire office is where Aurors get sent when they're past their primes. Most of them are marking time until they get the gold pocketwatch." He moved two folders to the top of the messy stack he'd made, grumbled at the writing on the files inside, rubbed his eyes, and pulled his glasses from the inner pocket of his suit jacket.</p>
<p>Hermione held her breath in efforts to force herself not to make an appreciative noise out loud. She wanted to fog up those lenses and contemplated asking the trainees to leave the room so she could. Looking away from Draco, she brushed a few flakes of pastry back into the box. "Eyes hurting again?" she asked.</p>
<p>Draco hummed. "Harrison wrote these reports. Using a centipede, I assume. Look at this." He turned a file toward her.</p>
<p>Hermione glanced under her lashes at the two trainees, then set her hand on his as she skimmed the file. "I have potions for eyestrain," she said, pretending not to notice the cheeky looks Cotterill and Choudhury gave each other. "Take one before bed tonight."</p>
<p>Draco looked at her with a hint of a smile. "It's the little things, isn't it?" He drew the file back and added a note to the top page in each folder. "So you both managed to get identifications?"</p>
<p>Cotterill nodded. "First victim," she said, flicking her wand to make the photograph on the wall float forward and enlarge. "Madison Riley, aged twenty-four. Waitress at a mid-range restaurant. Quiet, kept to herself. Lived alone, as far as her coworkers knew. Had a boyfriend, but no one knew him."</p>
<p>Choudhury raised her wand and the second photograph came forward. "Ellen Donaldson, aged twenty-two. Also quiet and kept to herself. Lived with a flatmate, Erin Bowyer, who wasn't surprised when she didn't come home. She was known to spend weeks at a time with her boyfriend, but the flatmate had nothing on him beyond 'Rhys' and wasn't sure if that was correct. Bowyer didn't appear to care, since the rent was paid a year in advance, which seemed odd to me. Donaldson doesn't have any record of employment in the wizarding community, so I hadn't yet figured out where her funds came from. Maybe she works in the Muggle world?"</p>
<p>"Or she has another source of income," Draco said, lifting his brows. "My salary doesn't match my financial records. You might be able to get account information on her, as long as its not from Gringotts. I'll talk to them if that's the situation."</p>
<p>Hermione ate in silence, watching as the three Aurors discussed the case, ideas flying back and forth, new notes added to the wall and others discarded. She was fascinated by how Draco worked with the two trainees. He let them take the lead on several points, redirected them when they started to go on a tangent, encouraged them when they hesitated. She could see hints of his father in the way he worked, in his certainty and control, but he was far softer than Lucius could possibly be. He led instead of ordered.</p>
<p>Draco turned to her. "You said you had some files," he said. "What did you find?"</p>
<p>Hermione wiped her fingers and nodded. "I remembered something you and Harry said once about murder being an evolution. An escalation of criminal behavior. I went through the archives and looked for any crimes involving ropes in the past twenty years."</p>
<p>"Why only twenty years?" Draco said, lifting a brow.</p>
<p>Hermione hid a smile. She wondered if he knew he'd used the same tone on her that he had on the trainees when asking them about their investigations. Not patronizing, but encouraging further explanations. "The victims are all in their twenties, so I extrapolated that the suspect would be the same age or within a decade or two of it. Then I narrowed the search to violent crimes with sexual components—assaults, rapes—and then narrowed those further to female victims."</p>
<p>"Our suspect hasn't shown a sexual motive," Cotterill said. "No rapes, no signs of trauma."</p>
<p>Draco cleared his throat, a slight hint of pink at the tops of his cheekbones. "The rope pattern he's using to tie up the victims has a sexual aspect to it. It's a good call."</p>
<p>Hermione pushed away the remains of her spanokopita, avoiding Draco's eyes for the moment. She was sure he was thinking the same thing she was, remembering the people they'd seen in the shibari room at the Thorned Rose. No sex had been going on in that room at all, but it had been one of the most erotically-charged scenes she'd ever witnessed. And he'd said he was <em>familiar</em> with ropes. That was something she hoped they'd have time to explore.</p>
<p>She put that memory deep in her mind and pulled the stack of folders in front of her. "I found nearly three dozen reports that fit within those parameters. Most were single incidents and well over half resulted in arrests within a week." She spread the folders out, indicating the colored labels she'd put on each. "These are the rest. Red for unsolved, blue for commonalities, and—" She realized all three of the Aurors were watching her intently and she blushed. "I thought it might help."</p>
<p>"Miss Granger," Choudhury said, looking through one folder. "If you decide to transfer to MLE, you'd be welcome with open arms. Possibly tears of joy."</p>
<p>Draco smiled at Hermione over his coffee cup. "Open arms is a certainty. Thanks, Hermione. This will save some time. Whenever you want to do some research for my team, I'll gladly take it. Good work."</p>
<p>Hermione felt a small flush rising to her cheeks. She didn't know if he'd spotted that she'd underlined 'praise kink' in the pamphlet but even if it wasn't deliberate, it still made her shiver. "You're welcome. I should—I should go. Let you get on with it." She stood and set her hand on his shoulder as she passed behind him, then stopped.</p>
<p>"Oh. I nearly forgot." She dug into her skirt pocket, pulled out his silver cigarette case, and put it on the table in front of him. "You left this at my place," she said with a light touch to the bruised side of his neck before smiling at the trainees. "Cotterill, Choudhury. Nice to meet you. Keep him out of trouble, would you?"</p>
<p>"If they can do that, they deserve promotions right away," Draco said. He looked up from the folders and winked at her. "Don't forget, Quidditch match this evening."</p>
<p>"Pansy and I will be there. Cheering our men on."</p><hr/>
<p>Hermione tugged at the soft, well-worn Slytherin Quidditch jumper Draco had sent to her, his giant eagle owl waiting at the window and clutching the green-wrapped package in one foot when she'd arrived home after work. The accompanying note read: <i>My girlfriend would have stolen this from me. Wear it to the match</i>. </p>
<p>The high-necked jumper reached to her knees, sleeves drooping past her hands. She'd rolled the sleeves a few times and worn it over jeans. It wasn't until three different people in the stadium had called her Malfoy that she realized she was wearing Draco's name across her back.</p>
<p>She walked with Pansy into the Quidditch arena, passing through the tunnel under the stands and to the wide grassy area around the pitch. Pansy led her straight to the players' bench on one side.</p>
<p>"Should we be here?" Hermione asked, looking up to see a distant figure checking the hoops at one end of the field. "We're not players."</p>
<p>"We're fine," Pansy said. "Nobody ever stops me."</p>
<p>"You're the Head Auror's wife, who's going to stop you?"</p>
<p>"Exactly." Pansy grinned, nudging her shoulder. "And you're a player's girlfriend, so hush. Here they come."</p>
<p>Men and women in plain white jerseys and breeches, some still tugging on gauntlets and shin guards, Apparated into place around the two benches. Most arrived with soft pops and bright colors; Hermione jumped as Draco appeared with a crack and a swirl of black smoke.</p>
<p>He raised a hand in greeting before ducking his head to listen to an Auror she didn't recognize. She took the chance to whisper to Pansy. "That's twice I've seen him Apparate like that. Is that normal? I should know. For girlfriend reasons."</p>
<p>Pansy's eyes tightened for a moment, then she nodded. "For him it is," she murmured. She touched Hermione's left arm with a significant lift of her brows and Hermione hid a grimace, remembering the times she'd seen Death Eaters Apparating. They'd appeared in the same swirl of black smoke. She hoped it hadn't been his aunt who'd taught him, at least not in one of the lessons that haunted his memories.</p>
<p>Draco finished his conversation and came to join them, settling one arm around Hermione's shoulders, a leather equipment bag and his broom in the other hand. "Parks, abusing your marriage vows to sneak onto the pitch again?" he said. "You're teaching Granger bad habits."</p>
<p>"You'll eventually be damn thankful for the things I've taught her," Pansy said archly. She wrinkled her nose at him and headed off towards Harry in the center of a knot of Aurors.</p>
<p>Draco shook his head and looked down at Hermione. "Since you're here, you can help me out," he said, releasing her as he dropped onto the bench. He leaned his broom against it and dug his gauntlets out of his bag, slipping one onto his arm before he held his hand out to her, palm up. "Tighten the buckles for me?"</p>
<p>Hermione raised her brows and stepped between his spread feet. She fastened the buckles and straps, concentrating on them to avoid looking at his body. The players wore protective padding under their uniforms but that was no explanation for the breadth of his shoulders in his jersey or the tight stretch of the breeches around his thighs. She'd been pressed underneath him enough to know that lithe musculature was all him.</p>
<p>He held the second gauntlet out to her and she took it, examining it to see how it should go over his hand. She got it facing the wrong direction first, then huffed at herself and turned it around.</p>
<p>Another player sat down close to them and Draco flicked a glance that way. He touched the side of her leg with his knee three times. "By the way," he said. "My name looks good on you."</p>
<p>Hermione dropped the gauntlet. She squeaked and dove for it under the bench, coming up kneeling between Draco's thighs. He stared down at her, eyes wide before he snapped them shut and took a deep breath. </p>
<p>The man who'd sat next to them poked Draco in the shoulder. "While she's down there, eh?"</p>
<p>Draco slowly turned his head and gave the man a glare that made him shuffle down the bench and look away.</p>
<p>Hermione bit her lip and looked up at Draco. Acting. Girlfriend. Making their roles look real. </p>
<p>Staring into his eyes, she set the gauntlet on the bench by his hip, put both hands on his thighs, and pushed herself to her feet, her mouth passing within inches of his stomach on her way up.</p>
<p>"Maybe after the match," she said, with a wicked smile.</p>
<p>Draco's eyes flashed dark and Hermione shivered at the sudden heat in his gaze. Her fingers shook as she picked up the gauntlet and slid it over the sleeve of his jersey. He didn't look away from her face as she tightened the buckles. When she'd finished, she started to step back, but he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and tugged her close until her legs were pressed to the insides of his thighs. </p>
<p>"Kiss for luck," he said, his voice dropping into a growl as he gave three quick taps to the inside of her wrist.</p>
<p>Hermione wet her lips, her heart pounding against her ears. She slid both hands over his shoulders and laced her fingers together behind him. Draco locked his hands around the backs of her thighs and pulled her closer. </p>
<p>Hermione's knees quivered. His hands were so large that his fingers had wrapped around to brush the insides of her thighs. Even through her jeans, she could feel the heat of his palms but that was nothing compared to the heat of his kiss. He didn't hesitate, didn't hold back like he had before. He swept his tongue across her lips and slid inside the moment she opened for him. </p>
<p>His hands dragged up her thighs under the jumper, rubbed over her arse, and spread across the small of her bare back. Hermione shuddered. She wanted to stand there forever, with Draco's hands on her skin, his mouth moving rough over hers. He clung to her and kissed her deep, fingers kneading at her back. </p>
<p>When he broke the kiss, her knees buckled. She dropped onto his leg, her head falling to his shoulder. "Give me a minute," she muttered into his jersey. She touched her lips, suspecting they were swollen already. He'd kissed her hard, as if he was laying a claim on her and wanted everyone to watch him do it.</p>
<p>Draco chuckled and smoothed one hand down her back. She saw him flick two fingers toward someone out of her view, someone who'd whistled lasciviously. "Like you've never done that with Potter," he said.</p>
<p>Pansy stopped in front of them, her arm around Harry's waist. She grinned at them. "What can I say? I like Quidditch players, always have. You know what I'm talking about, Granger." She pinched the back of Harry's leg, making him jump. "Broom thighs," Pansy said with a wink.</p>
<p>Hermione took a deep breath, kissed Draco's cheek, and whispered "good luck" against his ear. She was a little shaky when she stood, Draco's hand trailing down her arm to catch at and squeeze her fingers before she walked away with Pansy. She glanced back to see him smile at her as he turned to talk to Harry. </p>
<p>She and Pansy made their way up to the front row of the stands. "Great seats," she said, peering down at the players and looking for a pale blond head. </p>
<p>"Perks of dating a player," Pansy said as she settled into place. "Plus free snacks, if you like chips and lager."</p>
<p>The teams both trooped out to the center of the field with their brooms, surrounding a referee. There appeared to be an argument between Draco and Harry, then the ref conjured a large coin and flicked her wand to make it spin in the air. When it hit the ground, Draco made a gesture that was both rude and victorious, clear even at that distance, and Harry returned the rudeness before he trudged over to the opposite side of the circle to join the International department's team. </p>
<p>Hermione wondered how the teams were going to tell each other apart, with everyone in white, then the ref lifted her wand and the jerseys rippled, changing colors. Draco and the rest of MLE were in blue; Harry and International were in orange. The players mounted their brooms and lifted off.</p>
<p>Hermione kept her eyes on Draco. He hovered several feet above the ground, broom at a sharp diagonal while he gestured rapidly to a woman in blue. When she took off, Draco lifted his head, eyes shaded with one hand. Hermione couldn't quite tell, but it looked like he was grinning. He leaned over his broom and shot up, spiraling around the axis of the shaft as he neared the stand where she sat with Pansy. When he was at eye level, he braked and hovered. Looking straight at her, he rotated until he was upside down.</p>
<p>He released his hands and dangled, arms folded behind his head. The broom remained absolutely still in the air as Draco curled up and touched his forehead to it. One, two, three curls, his legs locked around the shaft. On the fourth curl, he unhooked his feet from the pegs. She could <em>see</em> the muscles in his thighs tense as he held himself in place and did one more slow controlled curl.</p>
<p>Hermione realized she was clutching the collar of Draco's jumper at her neck, pulling the wool away from her throat as if she needed more room for air.</p>
<p>"Yeah," she heard Pansy murmur next to her. "Told you. Unholy."</p>
<p>Draco set his feet on the pegs and twisted, spinning upright, and ran both hands through his hair. He threw her a wink and shot off to take his position as the ref blew her whistle. The Bludgers and Snitch were released and the ref threw the Quaffle high. </p>
<p>Hermione made a few efforts to watch the progress of the game but her eyes kept drifting back to the blue jersey and pale hair far overhead. Draco sat low on his broom, hands loose around the shaft, head turning as he scanned the area over the pitch. </p>
<p>She couldn't help thinking of other times she'd watched matches like this, at Hogwarts before the war. She remembered watching Draco during Gryffindor-Slytherin matches. Ostensibly, of course, she'd been watching him to see when—not if—he cheated during the match. That had even been true the first year or two he'd played. Then he'd started growing, he'd gotten taller, she'd started noticing his <em>hands</em>—the way he held a quill, how he gripped his wand—and she'd spent most of the matches cheering for Gryffindor goals a half-second behind all her housemates, watching Draco's hands flex around his broom.</p>
<p>Like she was doing now. Every so often, he'd adjust his grip, shift in the air, and scan another section of the sky. She looked to Harry and saw him doing the same thing, both Seekers looking for the small Golden Snitch. She tried looking for it herself but knew she wouldn't find it. She'd never once spotted it before a Seeker did.</p>
<p>She turned her eyes back to Draco, letting herself admire the way the sun made his hair gleam. He looked comfortable on a broom, as if he'd been training to ride since the day he could walk. She wondered what it would be like to fly with him, tucked securely between his legs, his arms tight around her waist as he guided the broom with nothing but the pressure of his thighs. Maybe his hands would slide under her shirt as he kissed behind her ear and pulled her back to rub against his large—</p>
<p>A violent crack echoed over the pitch and Draco's head whipped around. Before Hermione could even look for the source of the noise, he was streaking forward, bent low over his broom. </p>
<p>Pansy grabbed her arm. "Falling." She pointed toward the far end of the pitch. A pair of players, locked together, were spinning out of control and picking up speed as they dropped out of the sky.</p>
<p>An orange streak flew past the stands, chasing the blue figure of Draco. Hermione bit her lip, Pansy's hand tight in hers, as Draco and Harry both shot down after the falling players, their brooms nearly vertical as they took simultaneous dives. </p>
<p>Hermione leapt to her feet, leaning over the edge of the stand, watching with her heart in her throat as Draco took his hands off his broom. He'd spotted it before she had, before anyone else had. In the spin, one of the falling players lost her grip and dropped away from her broom. Draco poured on speed and zipped down, faster and faster. He twisted to the side, angled sharply, and drove his shoulder into the woman's stomach, arms locking around her legs.</p>
<p>The impact knocked them into a second spin, forcing Draco to fight for control over both his broom and the player. Hermione couldn't see anything but the flutter of orange and blue jerseys and the dizziness of the fall. She clutched the neck of Draco's jumper to her chin.</p>
<p>At the near end of the pitch, a dozen feet from the ground, Draco's broom slammed tail-first into the tall pole of one of the hoops. He went one way, the unconscious player went the other, and Hermione clapped her hands over her mouth to hold back a scream as they both slid through the grass.</p>
<p>She didn't know how she ended up on the field—she may have run, she may have Apparated, for all she knew, she jumped—but she found herself on the edge of the pitch, watching Draco shake his head and stagger to his feet, white breeches stained green along one side, jersey torn at the shoulder, lip bloodied.</p>
<p><i>Calm</i>, Hermione told herself. <i>Stay calm</i>. She took a deep breath.</p>
<p>She stormed across the grass and smacked Draco in the chest. "You <em>idiot</em>! What were you thinking? You could have been seriously hurt, you could have been <em>killed</em>."</p>
<p>Draco swayed back, both hands held up, his eyes wide. "Granger, I—"</p>
<p>"You're an idiot, Draco Lucius Malfoy, a complete and—and—and. And I don't know! I can't think of any more words to call you!" She smacked his chest again. "I thought I was about to watch you—you—" Her voice dissolved.</p>
<p>Draco caught her by the shoulders and drew her close, one hand cradling the back of her skull. "Hermione. I'm fine."</p>
<p>She shook her head against him, arms tight around his waist. "You're hurt."</p>
<p>"It's nothing. Knocked around, bloody lip. That's all. I've had worse." He tucked his fingers under her hair and stroked the back of her neck. "I swear, Hermione, I'm fine."</p>
<p>Distantly, she could hear people rushing onto the field, working over the fallen player. Somewhere, she knew Harry and the other player were getting their own attention. None of it mattered. She held on to Draco and shook with tears filling her eyes, trying to breathe and reassure herself that he was standing there, in one piece and mostly unharmed.</p>
<p>She wiped her cheeks on his jersey, looked up to him, and slipped both hands around the back of his neck. For a moment, she thought about their signal, their three taps, and she shoved the thought aside. Everyone there already believed she was his girlfriend. Being afraid for him was natural. Kissing him in relief was just as natural. </p>
<p>She pulled him down, pushing up on her toes in the same motion. "You scared me," she said against his mouth. She tasted blood on his lips and it made her shiver with renewed worry. "Don't do that."</p>
<p>Draco tightened his arms around her and picked her up. Hermione braced her toes on his shin guards, arms wrapped around his shoulders. He kissed her soft and slow, whispering to her between each drag of his lips across hers. "I'm all right, Hermione. I'm not hurt, I swear." </p>
<p>He lowered her to the ground and spread his hands across her back, lifting his head enough to press a kiss to her forehead. "I can't promise I won't do it again," he murmured. "I'm an Auror, Hermione. It's a dangerous job. I take risks all the time. You're going to have to accept that."</p>
<p>She sniffed, head craned back to look into his eyes. "Then you're going to have to accept that I'll yell at you again. And again. Every time. You're on my list, Draco Malfoy, and I shout at the people I care about."</p>
<p>Draco looked at her for a moment, then he smiled. </p>
<p>Hermione's heart stuttered. She had <em>never</em> seen a smile like that from Draco, not once in the years she'd known him. He smiled so broadly that small dimples formed in his cheeks. His eyes gleamed silver, the skin around them crinkling up. He ducked his head and kissed her again, still smiling when he straightened up. "I'll hold you to that," he said.</p>
<p>Hermione let her hands drop from around his neck and took a step back. "You should—should have someone look at you," she said, touching her mouth. "Get that cut healed. And I should—I should find Pansy."</p>
<p>Draco looked behind her and tilted his head. "Think she found you." He touched her arm, hand sliding down to clasp her fingers before he walked over to the now-conscious player and the Healers.</p>
<p>Hermione turned around to see Pansy standing there, eyes wide and mouth open, her face locked in an expression of absolute shock. </p>
<p>"What?" Hermione said. "I was—was worried about him. He—"</p>
<p>"Fuck that, Granger," Pansy said. "He smiled at you." </p>
<p>"He smiles a lot, Pansy."</p>
<p>Pansy shook her head. "No, you don't understand. He smiles because he's expected to, because the situation calls for it. Sometimes he's even in a good mood. But that?" She looked past Hermione to Draco and back, her green eyes sparkling. "Hermione. That was Draco Malfoy's <em>real</em> smile. And it was for you."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Two days had passed since the Quidditch match and Hermione had barely slept. Her dreams kept her tossing in her bed all night. She was looking down into Draco's empty eyes, pale as the shine faded from them, his hair soaked in blood and his body limp in her arms.</p>
<p>She couldn't stop herself from remembering the funeral. The officiant had said that Mitchell's widow had a few words, and the woman had stood, tears in her eyes as her children stood close with her, to thank the other Aurors for giving her husband's death a purpose. For catching a dangerous Dark witch, for saving a family. And then she had gone on to describe their actions. The fight the Aurors entered, the fire the witch had set in the house.</p>
<p>And Draco's dangerous leap from the building with two little boys in his arms, Apparating seconds before a spear of flame shot through the bedroom window.</p>
<p>Hermione had felt her heart stop. She'd locked her hands together, nails dug into her palms. She hadn't turned around to look at him. She couldn't. She stared at the coffin, thinking. A few seconds slower, a few seconds later, and that coffin could have been holding a different man. It could have been Draco.</p>
<p>Then she'd watched him spinning over the Quidditch pitch, locked in a deadly spiral as he struggled to save the unconscious player. Again, a few seconds slower, a few feet closer to the ground, and he could have died. A broken neck, a shattered spine. </p>
<p>She'd known for years that Quidditch players took risks and that Seekers took even more, with their steep dives and rapid flights to catch the small fluttering Snitch. But matches at Hogwarts were nothing compared to the furor of adults, to the risks <em>they</em> took. A team full of Aurors, men and women who faced down Dark wizards, could push themselves to the limit, and she'd watched with her heart in her throat as Draco fell out of the sky in efforts to save another person's life.</p>
<p>He played a risky sport, had a dangerous career, went into precarious situations all the time. She knew that. She knew he was fine, knew that he hadn't been seriously injured in either incident. But that didn't stop her dreams. She'd been worried about assignments and missions in the past, but—</p>
<p>She'd never been <em>afraid</em> for him before.</p>
<p>Sitting on the end of her bed, she buried her face in her hands. She kept imagining it, over and over. The thoughts looped through her mind every time she closed her eyes. She saw herself dressed in a black dress and veil, walking up to a sleek coffin and looking in to see Draco, his long hands folded and stiff, his eyelashes limp against his cheeks, and his skin gone pure white in death. She imagined stroking hair as pale as the satin pillow under his head, laying her palm against his jaw to cradle his still face, grabbing at his hands and feeling nothing but fingers as cold and hard as the metal bands of his rings.</p>
<p>She saw herself leaning over him and pressing a kiss to his unmoving lips, whispering everything she felt for him and couldn't admit. Everything it was too late to say, despite how much she wanted it.</p>
<p>Hermione curled into a ball on her bed, pillow clutched to her stomach, and squeezed her eyes shut against tears that still managed to escape. But worse than the horrible dreams was the meaning behind them. </p>
<p>She wanted something that didn't exist and never would. They were on an assignment, their entire relationship was fictitious, and as soon as they found the serial killer, as soon as Draco solved the case, they'd be back to nodding at each other in the halls and sharing a friendly dinner twice a month. </p>
<p>She didn't want that.</p>
<p>She wanted to see him smile when she sat beside him with her hand tucked into his, when she put her head on his chest and wrapped her arms around him. To see that real smile, the one that had softened the sharp angles of his face, that wide, honest smile that lit up his eyes and dimpled his cheeks. It was the first time she'd ever seen him look <em>happy</em>.</p>
<p>No, she admitted finally, closing her eyes. She wanted more than that. More than a real smile and a false relationship, more than lust and sex. The thought made something tighten up inside her. Just the idea that they would go back to how it all had been, that she'd lose what little she had with him, made her want to scream. </p>
<p>She wanted to wake up beside him every morning. To know how he liked his coffee, to have his scars memorized by touch. To have private jokes and quiet moments, to fight and make up, to curl into his arms in front of a fire, to dance with him under moonlight. She wanted to see a new ring on his hand, one that matched a ring on hers.</p>
<p>She wanted to be afraid for him every time he went on an assignment and she wanted him to <em>know</em> that she was waiting for him to come back to her. To know that there was someone who cared about him, who missed him every moment they were apart, who wept when he was hurt and when he was safe again.</p>
<p>Curling tighter around the pillow, Hermione buried her face in it and let it muffle her sobs. She'd volunteered for this assignment in the hopes of getting the chance to seduce Draco and now she was realizing that wasn't enough. She didn't just want him in her bed.</p>
<p>She wanted him in her life because he was already in her heart.</p>
<p>And she had to keep pretending. Pretending that it was real, reminding herself that it wasn't. Every time Draco stepped away from her and tapped his wrist or the back of his neck, he was telling himself that her actions were for the job. He was telling <em>her</em> that his actions were the same. Every time he kissed her, every time he looked into her eyes. All of it was imaginary.</p>
<p>But if an imaginary relationship was all she could have, she'd take it to have him that little bit longer. To have everything she could before it all disappeared like smoke.</p><hr/>
<p>"I don't know where to go, don't you understand? I'd be talking to the right person if I knew who that was!"</p>
<p>Draco stepped out of the flow of traffic in the Ministry Atrium and looked toward security, where a bored-looking watchwitch was standing, arms folded, in front of the gate. A young man paced in front of her. "Just tell me who I need to talk to and that will be the person I'm here to see! How is this difficult? My girlfriend is missing!"</p>
<p>Draco closed his eyes, hiding a wince, and made his way over to the security stand. "Caitlin, I'll handle this."</p>
<p>The watchwitch huffed and went back to her desk. Draco tapped the young man on the shoulder. "What's your name?"</p>
<p>"Billy. Billy Price. I haven't talked to her in nearly a week and she's not answering at home."</p>
<p>Draco spotted a few people slowing down to watch and he gave a tight smile to Billy. "Come with me. Let's talk about this in private."</p>
<p>Billy gave him a wary look but followed him through the gate and down the hall to the closest lift. Draco shut the door behind him. "What's your girlfriend's name?" he asked as the lift jerked into action.</p>
<p>"Gwen Morgan. She's—"</p>
<p>"Missing. I understand. Is it possible that she's out of town? Took off with some friends?" Draco asked. Maybe she was on a mini-break at a spa. Maybe she'd won a trip to Malta. Maybe she'd left Billy. There were any number of reasons that a woman could be 'missing'. She didn't necessarily have to be one of the women in the body drawers in the morgue.</p>
<p>"She wouldn't have left without telling me. She never goes anywhere unless I drag her with me. She goes to the shops, she goes to work, she goes to the library, and she goes home. She's missing, I know she's missing."</p>
<p>"Could you describe her, Mr Price?" Draco kept his expression blank, silently hoping that the man's girlfriend was a brunette. Two unidentified women were still in the morgue, one blonde, one redhead.  </p>
<p>Billy held his hand flat at his eye level. "She's about this tall? Pale, freckles, brown eyes, long blonde hair."</p>
<p>Draco shut his eyes and took a deep breath, centering himself. The physical description matched the fourth victim they'd discovered. "Mr Price," Draco said, opening his eyes. "You need to come with me."</p>
<p>Billy stared at him, color slowly draining from his face. "Why do you—what are you—" He gulped. "Who are you anyway?"</p>
<p>Draco watched the man for a moment, then hid a sigh. He tried, but he never managed to phrase this sort of thing well. The ability to be compassionate and understanding wasn't one for which he had many examples to follow. His examples were more on the bragging and laughing side. </p>
<p>For a horrible moment, he contemplated throwing a green skull at the ceiling of the lift. That was his experience of how to do death announcements. </p>
<p>Clearing his throat, he shoved those images away. "My name is Draco Malfoy and I'm with MLE. I'm the lead Auror on a case involving the murders of several young women. Your description matches one of my victims. I need to ask you to make an identification, Mr Price."</p>
<p>The lift stopped and the door slid open. Draco stepped out but Billy didn't follow him. Draco turned, took the man by the upper arm, and led him out of the lift. Billy didn't speak, didn't protest the decontamination procedure, didn't even seem to notice the swinging doors as Draco guided him into the morgue. </p>
<p>"Townsend," Draco said, rubbing his nose against the strong smell of disinfectant. The morgue techs had used that awful soap again and he had to fight back a sneeze. "Pull out number four."</p>
<p>Townsend swung around on her stool, eyes narrowed. "Malfoy, I'm not one of your trainees, you can't—" </p>
<p>Realizing he wasn't alone, she looked at the man standing next to him. Her face softened. "Oh," she said. "I see. Poor lamb." She stepped up, put her arm around Billy's shoulders, and led him to a chair by her desk. "Take a moment, young man," she said. "Breathe."</p>
<p>Billy put his head in his hands and stared at the floor.</p>
<p>Townsend came back to Draco and backhanded his arm, lowering her voice to a harsh whisper. "What did you do, announce that she's dead and he needs to take a look at her corpse? Didn't they teach you anything in training?"</p>
<p>"I'm not good at this, Townie," he said. "Dealing with the vic's family isn't my strength. The last three death notices I had to make were all to people married to someone in MLE and they knew why I was there the second I showed up at their doors."</p>
<p>She rolled her eyes and pointed to the far side of the morgue. "Stay out of the way. You look like the Grim Reaper looming there in black. Not very helpful."</p>
<p>Draco made a face at her but stepped back. Townsend went over to Billy, took his hand, and led him to the wall of body drawers. Draco couldn't hear what she was saying, but Billy took a sniffling breath and nodded, then shuddered when Townsend opened a drawer. She pulled the white sheet off the woman's face and Billy cried out. He clutched the metal tray. "Gwen. Gwen, <em>Gwennie</em>. It's—it's—"</p>
<p>Billy dissolved into blubbering and Townsend glanced over her shoulder. "Positive identification, Malfoy."</p>
<p>Draco sighed. "I'd say so. Mr Price, if you would—" </p>
<p>Billy swayed.</p>
<p>Draco leapt across the room, catching Billy as his knees buckled. </p>
<p>Swearing under his breath, Draco hoisted the man up and set him on one of the examination tables, holding on to his shoulder to keep him upright. "For god's sake. Is it really that disturbing?"</p>
<p>Townsend looked at him, her jaw set. "Malfoy. Most people haven't seen as many bodies as we have."</p>
<p>"Saying I spend too much time down here, Townie?" Draco tried for levity, but from the pitying look Townsend gave him, it hadn't worked.</p>
<p>"I'm saying you're not even thirty and I don't want to know how many deaths you've witnessed." </p>
<p>
  <i>You have to mean it, Draco, you have to mean it! You must do this, Draco, now! Ragged nails clutching his cheeks, mad grey eyes staring into his. A hiss of hot breath against his ear. Weak, nephew. You're weak. And weakness must be burned out of the blood. Wand at his throat, fist clenched in his hair, a sharp kick to the back of his knees. If you can't learn through watching, maybe you can learn through pain.</i>
</p>
<p>Draco blinked, coming back to himself, hands flat on the table, fingers as cold as the metal under his palms. Townsend was talking but none of the words made sense to him. He took a deep breath, focusing, and realized she was speaking to Billy. She hadn't noticed his lapse. Draco straightened up and curled his fingers, hiding the tremble in them.</p>
<p>Billy sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Gwen," he whimpered. "Can I take her home?"</p>
<p>Draco stood up straight, hands clasped behind his back. "You have the Ministry's sympathies, Mr Price, but I can't release her to you. You're not a direct relative. If you could contact a family member to come and—"</p>
<p>"Her parents. But they're Muggles," Billy muttered. "They can't come here."</p>
<p>Draco directed a questioning glance to Townsend. "We have procedures for that," she said. "Give him your card so her parents can call."</p>
<p>Draco hid a grimace. Somewhere in MLE was a telephone but he'd never used it. His cases almost never involved Muggles. Those tended to be given to what Harry had called 'more integrated' Aurors. Draco was well aware what Harry actually meant.</p>
<p>Billy appeared to be steady enough. Draco stepped back, watching to make sure the man didn't tip forward, then snapped his fingers and muttered a cantrip under his breath. An engraved business card appeared in his hand and he set it on the table next to Billy. "Have her parents contact the department," he said. "Townsend, think this fellow could use some tea."</p>
<p>"Tea," Billy muttered. "Yeah. Cuppa. That'll—Gwen takes two sug—" His head dropped. "Took."</p>
<p>Draco rummaged through his memories for everything the training lectures had said about comforting a bereaved family member. Very little of it seemed like something he could do without coming off as patronizing. He tentatively set his hand on the man's shoulder. It had worked for the boys at Mitchell's funeral. "We'll take care of her, Mr Price," he said. "We'll do everything we can to find her killer."</p><hr/>
<p>He spent most of the afternoon adding to his reports and trying to bribe someone else, <em>anyone else</em>, into dealing with Gwen Morgan's sobbing mother on the telephone. Attempting to reassure a woman he couldn't even see had not gone well. </p>
<p>Neither had the rest of the day. He'd spent the last couple of hours in his cubicle, one hand pressed to the back of his neck, the muscle knotted under his fingers. He'd been locked in a memory of Bellatrix again, down in the morgue, and while it had ended in less than thirty seconds, he'd experienced phantom pain for an hour afterward. </p>
<p>The only thing that got him through the stack of paperwork—toxicology reports, scent analysis reports, spell damage reports, and more—was counting down the time until he could meet Hermione for their double date with Harry and Pansy. Another attempt at being seen out in public, at adding to their false relationship. He planned on making up for their previous date, cancelled by the Auror all-call.</p>
<p>As he stood on the pavement, staring up at the name of the restaurant, Draco realized this date was not going to go any better. "Potter. You didn't say this was where we were going." </p>
<p>Harry looked over his shoulder, Pansy's arm tucked through his. "What? Everybody at the office said it was good. Don't like the food here?"</p>
<p>Draco shook his head and took a step back. "I think you'll find that there won't be a table for us after all."</p>
<p>Harry made a face. "That doesn't make sense. I checked with them a couple of hours ago and they said our reservation was set."</p>
<p>Hermione touched his arm and Draco pulled away from her without thinking, a twisting motion that was almost instinct, his left arm tight against his body.</p>
<p>Hermione tipped her head. "Draco, is everything all right?"</p>
<p>He ground his teeth, forcing himself to keep his face blank. "They won't serve me, Granger. Let's find somewhere else to eat."</p>
<p>She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why don't we all go in and see about that?" she said.</p>
<p>Draco looked at her from the corner of his eye and minutely shook his head. "No point. Not as long as I'm with you."</p>
<p>Hermione set her jaw. She yanked open the restaurant door, ignoring Draco's protest as she stomped inside. </p>
<p>Draco swore under his breath. "She's always like this, isn't she?"</p>
<p>Harry nodded. "Nothing to be done about it. You learn to accept it after a while."</p>
<p>Draco sighed and followed Hermione into the restaurant, stepping up behind her at the host's podium. "Granger, don't bother," he said. "We won't get a table here."</p>
<p>"And just what makes you think—Reservation for Potter," she said as the maitre d' came around the corner. She peered at the man's name tag. "Table for four, Archibald?"</p>
<p>Draco saw the automatic smile fade into a sneer as soon as the man recognized him. "Oh," Archibald said in a low monotone. "We have no tables available."</p>
<p>Draco watched Hermione look past the podium into the restaurant, at a dozen empty tables. Slowly, she turned to look up at him. Draco kept his face still. "I warned you," he said. "There won't be a table. Not for me."</p>
<p>Archibald snorted. "You've got that right."</p>
<p>The door opened and he turned away immediately with an officious smile. "Mister Potter!" he said. "What a wonderful evening. We're so happy to have you—" Harry stepped up beside Draco and Archibald snapped his jaw shut. He looked at each of them in turn, then grabbed his podium with both hands, knuckles going white. "Your reservation is cancelled."</p>
<p>"Malfoy, what's the problem?" Harry said, his eyes hard behind his glasses.</p>
<p>Draco sighed, reached out and snatched a menu from the podium, ignoring Archibald's outraged splutter, and turned it over to display the picture of the restaurant's founder. "Elizabeth Barton," he said, looking the man in the eyes. "Murdered in 1973."</p>
<p>He felt a brush against his knuckles and glanced down to see Hermione touching him. She curled her fingers around his hand. "Murdered," she repeated, her voice soft. "By—"</p>
<p>"Yes," Draco said. </p>
<p>
  <i>Hoarse, violent laughter, hands slapping a table, wine spit down a shirt. Do you remember that one, Yaxley? The little bitch with the restaurant. What was her name? Baker, Benton. How much did she scream? Taught her a lesson, didn't we? Hey kid, listen to this. Lemme teach you what we do to people who think they can refuse us.</i>
</p>
<p>He didn't move, knew his expression didn't change, but Hermione tightened her grip on his hand. He wrapped his fingers around hers and brushed his thumb across her knuckles. He looked at Archibald and returned the menu to the podium, watching as the man took a step back to stay out of his reach. "I wasn't even born yet," Draco said. "It's not as if I'm the one who killed her."</p>
<p>"Doesn't matter," Archibald said, lifting his chin. "One and the same, all of you. If you didn't do it, you know who did, Death Eater."</p>
<p>"Now look here," Harry said.</p>
<p>"Potter," Draco said. "It's not worth it."</p>
<p>"He can't treat you like—"</p>
<p>"He <em>can</em>. He's allowed." </p>
<p>Hermione looked up at him, bit her lip, and slid her hand up his back to rub his nape with the tip of one finger, her arm stretched as high as she could reach. "Draco, I—"</p>
<p>Draco clenched his fingers around her hand. "Don't, Hermione." Draco looked down at her. "Not the first time I've been thrown out. Won't be the last, either."  </p>
<p>Hermione watched his eyes for a moment and nodded. "Then you're not being thrown out. We've changed our mind about the quality of this restaurant. Right, Harry?"</p>
<p>"Right. I'll be sure to tell everyone I know that the service is unacceptable." </p>
<p>Archibald's eyes narrowed. Draco amused himself wondering if the implication that the Chosen One was going to ruin their business would change the man's mind, then he felt Hermione flinch at his side. Something wet hit his chest. Draco looked down to see a thick gob of spit dripping down the silk of his tie.</p>
<p>"That's assault on an Auror," Harry said, stepping forward with his wand in his hand.</p>
<p>"Stop, Potter." Draco let go of Hermione and unknotted his tie. Careful to avoid the wet portion of it, he stripped it from around his neck and dropped it onto the podium. "Have this cleaned and returned to the Ministry by Monday," he said. "Personally. Or I will buy this business and have you fired. Try to find new employment and I'll buy that business too." He smiled deeply. "I'll buy every shop and restaurant in London, just to keep you out of a job."</p>
<p>He unfastened his collar and the button beneath it, rubbing the notch in his clavicle. Reaching down, he took Hermione's hand and laced their fingers together. "How about we order in tonight?" he said, looking down at her. "I know a few places that deliver."</p>
<p>Harry looked at him. "Malfoy, are you—"</p>
<p>"All he has to do is have my tie cleaned and I'll let it go." He looked over Hermione's head at Archibald and the wait staff who had started to gather. "I'm letting him off easy. I could have arrested him. According to the law, he did attack me. Deliberately spitting on a person falls under common assault and is punishable by a fine of up to forty Galleons or six months community service. Depending on the severity of the offence, the magistrate could consider prison time. Considering that I'm law enforcement, that might qualify as severe."</p>
<p>Archibald went pale. "Now, now, Mr Malfoy, I don't think we—"</p>
<p>"Tie. Cleaned. Monday. And we'll drop it." He put his hand on Hermione's back, guiding her out the door. She went without protest, which surprised him and made him feel wary. He braced for her reaction once they were outside and wasn't disappointed.</p>
<p>Hermione shook free of him with a huff. "Malfoy!" She glared up at him. "You threatened him. Couldn't you have been the bigger person?"</p>
<p>Draco rolled his eyes. "That was barely a threat, Granger. And someone who doesn't even come up to my shoulder really shouldn't talk about being the bigger person."</p>
<p>Folding her arms, she tapped one foot. "Draco Lucius Malfoy."</p>
<p>Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Harry edging backward with a nervous expression. Pansy took a step back as well. Draco gave them both a sharp look before staring down at Hermione. "He deserved it. You heard me in there. I could have arrested him. But I'm off-duty, I've had a long day, and I don't want to fill out paperwork over some pissant little insult. It happens all the time, Granger. I don't go a week with getting called 'Death Eater' like it's my official title. It's not as if it's not true. Will you drop it?"</p>
<p>Hermione glared at him again. "You should know by now that I don't drop things that easily."</p>
<p>Draco ran his hand through his hair. "For god's sake, all I wanted to do tonight was spend some quality time with my girlfriend. Is that too much to ask? Could we forget it and have—" He sighed, dropping his hands. "Have an evening together that doesn't end with some annoying interruption?"</p>
<p>Harry found his spine, a little late in Draco's opinion, but stepped up to gently pat Hermione on the shoulder. "C'mon, Hermione. Let's all go home, get something to eat. Pansy hid some apricot turnovers in the pantry."</p>
<p>"Harry James Potter, those were for breakfast!" Pansy glared at her husband.</p>
<p>"Full name for him too?" Draco snorted. "There, now we're both in trouble."</p>
<p>"You're a riot, Malfoy. You three can stand around if you want." Harry took his glasses off, rubbed his eyes on his arm, and slipped them back into place. "But if there aren't any turnovers left by the time you get back to ours, that's your problem. I'm starting on them the second I'm out of the Floo."</p>
<p>Hermione huffed and went up on her toes to poke Draco in the chest where he'd unfastened his shirt. "I'm not done with you. But it can wait until after pastry."</p><hr/>
<p>The turnovers went fast, despite Pansy's protests. Hermione huffed a few times, muttering under her breath about threats and behavior and 'can't believe you did that,' but the apricots did their job and by the time Harry took plates and empty cups to the kitchen to wash up, Hermione and Pansy were whispering to each other on the sofa.</p>
<p>Draco, perched in the windowsill to smoke, let the soft conversation sink into the background, his head back against the frame as he watched the sky. He thought about what he'd said to Hermione outside the restaurant. He admitted to himself that part of his annoyance with the host's behavior was the damper that rudeness had put on his anticipation. </p>
<p>Rubbing his jaw, he flicked the end of his cigarette out the window. Anticipation wasn't the right word, he thought. Eagerness came closer. He hadn't been thinking of the assignment or their cover story. He'd been <em>eager</em> to be out on a date with her. He'd wanted to spend the evening with his girlfriend, as real an evening as he could have. Sit and talk with her, maybe dance with her. Take a walk under the stars with her fingers laced in his. Tug her into a private spot, wrap his arms around her, and kiss her until her eyes went bright and wide.</p>
<p>He hid a sigh as Hermione got up and excused herself. He was still drifting off into fantasy. He'd let himself think there might be something more, when she shouted at him on the Quidditch pitch for getting hurt. Let himself think it enough to give her an unguarded smile. </p>
<p>He let himself dream and he shouldn't. That little 'practice session' in the garden had only proved that to him. He could claim involuntary stimulation all he wanted, pretend it was a physical response that couldn't be stopped, but he knew it was a lie. Having her beneath him, whispering his name, pleading for more? He hadn't been acting at all and that was too dangerous when she was—</p>
<p>
  <i>Draco, please. The heat of her skin through the thin fabric of her dress. The quick pants for breath each time his mouth shifted against her neck. The weight of her hand against his head as she pressed him closer. Draco, please. The shifts of her body under his. The taste of her skin on his tongue. The clench of her thighs around his leg. Draco, please. The smell of jasmine in her hair, of amber and cinnamon on her neck. The heavy, salt-tinged scent of her arousal.</i>
</p>
<p>Draco opened his eyes wide as the realization hit him. <em>Her</em> scent. He'd been lost in the sounds she'd been making, the shift of her body underneath his as he marked her throat, and he hadn't paid attention at the time. But now he remembered a scent of musk and salt, the evidence of an aroused woman. </p>
<p>His mind raced. That first kiss in the archives, where she'd rocked on his thigh and left a hint of damp on his trouser leg. That kiss outside the restaurant, when she'd clung to him and demanded more. The unexpected kiss and plea to be careful in the alley. The way she'd marked his neck at the club. Her insistence on a 'practice session' they didn't really need to take as far as they did. He concentrated on his memories, winnowing through them. </p>
<p>He'd known all along that he wanted her. He'd convinced himself she was acting.</p>
<p>He hadn't considered for a moment that she might want him too.</p>
<p>He shifted in the windowsill, clearing his throat. "Parks," he said, looking up. "Get the hell out of here."</p>
<p>"In my own house, Draco? What do you—" She looked at him and her mouth broadened in a grin. "Oh, I know that expression."</p>
<p>"You've seen it often enough." He jerked his head at the door. "Don't you have a sheer thing to torture Potter with? Upstairs? Well away from this room?"</p>
<p>"What, I don't get to stay? Thought you liked to be watched."</p>
<p>"Parkinson!"</p>
<p>"Granger-shaped dents, Malfoy. That's all I'm saying. Get to it, but don't stain my sofa."  Giggling, she headed for the door. "Potter!" she shouted. "Get your arse upstairs! I want to debauch my husband."</p>
<p>Hermione stood aside in the hallway to let Pansy pass, then returned to the sofa, smoothing her skirt over her thighs as she sat. "What was that about?"</p>
<p>Draco shook his head. "Nothing. Pansy being herself." He moved to his oversized chair. "Shame our date got cancelled again," he said, watching her eyes. "I was telling the truth, Hermione. I was looking forward to spending the evening with my girlfriend. With you."</p>
<p>Her cheeks pinkened and she nodded. "I was looking forward to it too. Second time we didn't even get to eat, you know. Maybe we should try a date without Pansy and Harry along. They could be the contributing factor."</p>
<p>He laughed under his breath. "Potter always did have a habit of ruining things for me." He spun one of his rings on his finger and cleared his throat. "A date without them, though. That's something I'd like to do. Excellent idea, Hermione. Smart of you."</p>
<p>The color in her face shaded to red. Draco smiled to himself. He'd thought she'd gotten a little flustered with his trainees, when he verbally acknowledged her research efforts. He <em>hadn't</em> misinterpreted the marked 'praise kink' in the pamphlet he'd read. The mark next to it could have been a very shaky star or a drop of ink. Looked like a star, judging from the blush on her cheeks.</p>
<p>Draco leaned back in his chair, unfastened his cuffs, and rolled the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. Hermione's eyes flickered, following the movement. Draco hummed quietly. "I had a thought," he said. </p>
<p>Hermione looked up. "About what?"</p>
<p>He'd had a thought to explore what he'd found in his memories. The scent of her arousal. He needed to determine, to confirm, if she wanted him as much as he wanted her. </p>
<p>He also had several, more demanding, thoughts about the various things she'd marked in her 'permission' list. He met her eyes, raised a brow, and crooked one finger at her. "Come here."</p>
<p>She was on her feet almost as fast as a Seeker, circling the coffee table to stand in front of him with her fingers twisting together. Draco brushed the tips of his fingers along the inside of her knee.</p>
<p>Hermione shifted her feet and Draco closed his eyes, inhaling slowly. It was light, it was faint, but it was there. Salt and musk. He smiled. A little more confirmation, he thought. That's all he needed.</p>
<p>Draco reached up, wrapped both hands around Hermione's waist, and guided her down to sit on his thigh. He hooked one hand under her knees and arranged her legs across his lap. "There we go," he said, fingers sliding down her shin to push her shoes off. "Just like that."</p>
<p>She put one arm around his neck and leaned her head against his. "You didn't say what your thought was, Draco."</p>
<p>Draco dragged his hand up her leg to rest on her knee. "I had several," he said, enjoying the way she shivered against him when he pitched his voice into a rumble. "But we should start with something I mentioned last time. Getting more comfortable with touches." He twitched his fingers against the inside of her knee. "We could practice for that."</p>
<p>Hermione swallowed, her hand shaking on his shoulder. "Practice," she repeated. He heard her take a deep breath, then she nipped at the curve of his ear.  "I like that idea. Practice what?"</p>
<p>Draco shuddered, his hand clamping on her thigh. Suddenly, his mind was blank. Everything he wanted to do to her ran together into one swirl of heavy breathing and heated skin.</p>
<p>"We could practice this again," Hermione said, sliding her hand down his neck and across his prisoner tattoo. She hooked her fingers in the open collar of his shirt. "But I think for our cover story, we don't necessarily need to show marks. As a couple, we'd go back to putting them in more hidden places. Just for each other."</p>
<p>The first small sting of disappointment he felt when she said they didn't need to show marks turned to a flare of heat in him when she kept speaking. Hidden places, just for each other. The thought alone had his cock stirring. Draco drew loose circles on her thigh, her skirt pushed above her knee. "Places like this," he said. </p>
<p>Hermione made a soft noise. He felt her moving and glanced down through his lashes to see her unfastening the top few buttons of her dress. He held his breath as she pulled the placket apart, a hint of blue lace showing underneath. "Or places like this," Hermione said.</p>
<p>Draco cleared his throat. "Definitely places like that." He cradled her nape and slid his other hand up her leg to rest on her stomach. "I'd leave my mark there every chance I could."</p>
<p>"I'd want you to." Hermione met his eyes. "I do want you to. So I know how it feels. To have you touching me there."</p>
<p>Draco growled, hand locking on the back of her neck. He pulled her mouth to his and kissed her. Neither of them played at pretense for it, no hesitation or teasing. He kissed her deep, fingers twitching on her ribs. </p>
<p>He dragged his hand up to the opening of her dress and rested the tips of his fingers on the bare skin of her sternum. "Touch you here?" he murmured against her mouth.</p>
<p>She broke away and kissed down his jaw to nip at his throat. "That's a good start. But I'm curious. I've always noticed how long your fingers are. Can you cover me with one hand?"</p>
<p>Draco stifled a groan as blood rushed to his cock, hard in a few throbbing heartbeats. Hermione gasped and wriggled on his lap, her hip pushed against him. He looked down into her eyes and she gave him a small, tentative smile. "Involuntary?" she said, reaching up to stroke his hair away from his face.</p>
<p>Draco shook his head. "No." He could smell her with every inhale, could hear her breathing roughen, and he had no interest in denying what he was feeling. He didn't think she could deny it either. He took a deep breath, voice dropping deeper. "That was definitely because of you."</p>
<p>Hermione let out a sharp breath, lifted her head, and kissed him. "Keep going, Draco. Touch me." </p>
<p>He slid his hand under the light fabric of her dress and pushed it aside to expose her lace-covered breast. Hermione's lashes fluttered and she tipped her head forward, watching his fingers move. "More."</p>
<p>He slid his hand up until he felt the curve of her breast against his thumb. He stilled, eyes locked on hers, as Hermione laid her hand over his fingers. She tipped her head back, kissed the underside of his jaw, and guided him higher.</p>
<p>Draco wasn't sure which of them made the quiet, needy noise. It didn't matter. He spread his hand out, covering her breast entirely. Even through the lace cup, he could feel the hard bump of her nipple in his palm. </p>
<p>Hermione moaned, his name shaping her lips. She slid off his thigh to settle between his legs, wriggling until the curve of her arse nestled close to his cock. Her head fell back over his arm and she arched her spine, pushing into his hand. </p>
<p>He rocked under her, kneading her in his fingers.</p>
<p>Hermione moaned again, her arse grinding against him, and Draco echoed her with a soft grunt. "Like that," he murmured, dragging his thumb around the point of her nipple. "That's it, Hermione. Just like that."</p>
<p>She shuddered, nails digging into his thigh. "Draco, please. Touch <em>me</em>."</p>
<p>Draco gave a sharp thrust under her and curled his fingers into the cup of her bra. He tugged at it, edging the lace down. </p>
<p>A feather landed on Hermione's chest.</p>
<p>"<em>Striga</em>," Draco said, freezing in place.</p>
<p>"What? Did I—" Hermione relaxed her grip on his leg. "Did I hurt you? Draco, I'm—"</p>
<p>"Striga. My owl." Draco pulled Hermione's dress closed, covering her. He scrubbed his fingers over his face, growled into his palm, and held his hand out. "Striga, give."</p>
<p>The eagle owl deposited a scroll in his hand and exited through the window he'd left open.</p>
<p>Hermione scrambled off his lap. She held her dress closed and patted at her hair. "Draco, is everything—"</p>
<p>Draco swore as he read the scribbled words on the scroll. He struggled to his feet. "I have to—I have to go. Now." Fighting to breathe evenly, he looked down at Hermione, at her flushed cheeks and disheveled curls. "It's my mother, but I—I don't want to go, Hermione. You have no idea—"</p>
<p>"Draco." Hermione set her shaking hand on his chest. Her fingers drifted down the buttons of his shirt, stopping at his belt buckle. She looked down and back up to his face, eyes dark. "I have a fairly good idea, actually."</p>
<p>Draco cupped her cheek. "I don't want to go," he said again. "I want to—" He cut off with a low growl.</p>
<p>Hermione went up on her toes to set her arms around his neck. "Practice," she whispered. "I know. We'll have another chance at the club this weekend. Go. Take care of your mother."</p>
<p>Draco looked down into her face and bent to curl his arms around her waist. He tightened his grip, lifted her off her feet, and kissed her hard. She grabbed at his hair, returning the kiss with savage determination. Draco didn't want to release her but forced himself to, breaking the seal of their kiss with a grunt. He let her slide down his front, let her feel him against her stomach when he set her down. </p>
<p>She shivered, tipping her head to his chest. "Go," she said again. "If she needs you, go."</p>
<p>Draco ducked down and kissed the top of her hair. "Sleep well, Hermione."</p>
<p>He grabbed his suit jacket and smacked the fireplace mantle with one hand, charms expanding it to fit his height as he stepped in and took a handful of Floo powder. "Malfoy Manor," he said. A second before the flames roared to life, he gave Hermione a quick, unguarded smile.</p><hr/>
<p>Hermione didn't dream of blood or coffins or Draco's death. She dreamt of his hands roaming over her, his eyes charcoal grey with need, his mouth tracing the curves of her body. In her dreams, he settled between her thighs and teased her into screaming, tongue and fingers working her open and ready for him, dripping with the agony of wanting him. </p>
<p>She dreamt of him moving up and over her, kissing her breathless before shifting higher, his arms tense with the effort of holding himself up as he pushed inside her. In her dreams, she could hear his soft groans, the heavy sounds of his breathing, the way he growled <i>Hermione</i> into her hair.</p>
<p>She woke in a sweat, calling out his name, her hands reaching out for him. Her entire body throbbed with the racing pulse of her heart.</p>
<p>Hermione stared at the ceiling. Alone in her bed. Only dreaming of him.</p>
<p>Putting her hands over her eyes, she whimpered. If he was even a quarter as good in reality as he was in her dreams, she was going to go insane long before they solved the case. She didn't know how much longer she could <em>act</em> like his lover when she was aching to pull him on top of her and have him drive her through her mattress.</p>
<p>One bright spot in her desperation was that she was starting to suspect she wasn't the only one who wasn't acting. She remembered what Draco had said to her the night before, when she'd felt him hardening. <i>That was definitely because of you.</i> His voice had been dark and raw and Hermione knew he'd said the truth. It wasn't the practice or the involuntary physical response that had him hot and solid against her hip. </p>
<p>It was her.</p>
<p>She rolled out of bed and shuffled to her bathroom. All through her morning routine, that one thought repeated. </p>
<p>It was her. He'd been turned on by her.</p>
<p>She combed her hair, dried it with a charm, and dressed for work, the thought still in her mind.</p>
<p>It was her. He'd been breathing heavily because of her, dark-eyed with need because of her, <em>hard</em> because of her.</p>
<p>Hermione couldn't stop herself from smiling as she made her way down the stairs. They'd been interrupted by his owl, had to stop before they'd even really begun, but as he'd left, he'd smiled at her again. That wide, real smile that made her heart stutter and her insides clench.</p>
<p>That smile could be classified as an Unforgivable, she thought, feeling the race of her pulse in her throat. It was <em>deadly</em>. Hermione took a shuddering breath, letting it out with a sigh as she stepped into the kitchen.</p>
<p>"How far up the tree did you get, Granger?" Pansy asked from the breakfast table.</p>
<p>Hermione squeaked, knocking her hip into the counter as she spun around. Her cheeks flamed bright red. "Pansy!"</p>
<p>Pansy grinned at her. "Still out of breath at this hour? Didn't think it was possible, but he's improved."</p>
<p>"I really don't see how that's any of your business, Pansy." Hermione turned away to make a cup of tea, charms bringing the water to the proper steeping temperature in a few seconds. </p>
<p>"Oh, come off it, Hermione. I put this whole thing into motion, giving you tips on how to finally get in his trousers. The least you can do is give me some details on how well it's working."</p>
<p>Hermione glanced over her shoulder to see Pansy staring at her, hands folded under her chin and green eyes sparkling with humor. Pansy stuck her tongue out. "And let's be fair, it's not as though you'd be telling me anything I didn't already know."</p>
<p>"We're not discussing your former sex life with him again."</p>
<p>Pansy shook her head. "Surprisingly, that wasn't in my head at all. I was talking about the way he looks at you. The way you look at him. Honestly, Granger, the sheer fact that the air between you doesn't catch fire is a miracle."</p>
<p>Hermione stopped, tea mug halfway to her mouth. "What do you mean the way he looks at me?"</p>
<p>Pansy dropped forward and thumped her head on the table. "God save me from Gryffindors. Hermione. Hermione Granger. Allegedly brightest witch of her age." She sat up, sighing. "You recall I said he gave you his real smile?"</p>
<p>Hermione sat down across from Pansy, the mug on the table between her hands. "Yes, I do. And he smiled at me like that when he left last night, too."</p>
<p>Pansy made a choking sound. "Right. We're coming back to that later. Twice. In one month. In damn near one week. If I have a heart attack at this table, tell Potter that I love him and I hid his favorite pair of horribly ugly boxers in the bottom of my period knickers drawer." She smacked her hand on the table. "Hermione. I have known Draco practically since we were both in the womb. I've been his friend, his best friend, his lover, his ex-lover, and more. I know that man more intimately than anyone on this planet. And he has smiled at <em>me</em> like that—"</p>
<p>She tipped her head and counted on her fingers. "Seven times. In our entire lives."</p>
<p>"You can't be serious."</p>
<p>"I am. Absolutely I am. And I'll be straight with you." Pansy lowered her eyes. Her voice softened. "I haven't seen him smile like that in over a decade, Hermione. Not since we were sixteen and he was forced to—well. I was starting to wonder if he was even capable of it any longer."</p>
<p>Hermione rolled her mug between her hands. "Of smiling?"</p>
<p>"Of being happy." Pansy folded her arms on the table. "He hasn't been happy in a very long time. But when he looks at you, I can see it. He's happy when he's around you. He <em>wants</em> you in a way I've never seen from him. If it wasn't for the fact that your bed is far too short, I'd drag Harry off on a weekend in the Cotswolds just to let you two have the house to yourselves."</p>
<p>Hermione blinked. "What does the length of my bed have to do with—oh." She stared into her tea, feeling heat rise in her cheeks. Her bed wasn't long enough for Draco to fit in. She would have to put an extension charm on the mattress, move the ottoman she used when putting on her shoes, remove the footboard. And get new sheets. Draco would probably have something to say about her faded cotton ones, no matter that they were soft and comfortable. </p>
<p>Pansy snapped her fingers and Hermione lifted her head. "Hmm? What?"</p>
<p>Giggling, Pansy leaned back in her chair. "I said, how much of my plan have you put into action? The perfume, the heels, shorter skirts, I've seen that for myself. Good work. But what about the last, multi-faceted point?"</p>
<p>"I don't know what you—"</p>
<p>"The fuck you through a wall section, Hermione, you know exactly what I mean. I saw the bite he left on you. I think everyone in the Ministry saw that."</p>
<p>"Not everyone."</p>
<p>"Was the archive unusually busy that day?" Pansy grinned. "Loads of people coming down to look up files? At least one person from every single department in the Ministry, including those lemon-suckers in Broom Regulatory Control?"</p>
<p>Hermione coughed and stirred her tea. "Maybe."</p>
<p>Pansy cackled. "I told you that he liked to bite. Be careful, though. If he gets really into it, he might break skin. No judgement if that's something you like too but we had a huge fight about it once. Thought you could use the warning about his teeth."</p>
<p>Hermione snorted into her tea. "Should have warned me about his—" She cut herself off and got up to rummage in the cabinet. "Any of those turnovers left? Or I'll have toast. Marmalade, that will go nice with it."</p>
<p>"Harry took the last turnover when he went in earlier." Pansy narrowed her eyes and stared at Hermione. "Warned you about Draco's—Oh." Her smile broadened wickedly. "His <em>shoe size</em>?"</p>
<p>Hermione took her time choosing a plate, resolutely not looking in Pansy's direction. "He, um. He hinted that he—he. Might be on the large side."</p>
<p>"On the large side. You could say that. Have you seen it yet?"</p>
<p>Both hands on the counter, cheeks hot, Hermione shook her head. "Just—just. Felt." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Pansy make a rude gesture. "No! Not. Not that." She sighed and scrubbed both hands over her face. "Just grinding, really? And that gave me a decent idea of—"</p>
<p>"No, it didn't."</p>
<p>"Pansy, I'm not a complete idiot. I know that isn't the best way to judge."</p>
<p>"That's no way to judge. Not with him. If he had his clothes on, you have no concept. His tailor layers a half-dozen charms on his suits and still weeps into a pile of worsted wool every time Draco shows up there." Pansy set one elbow on the table and wrapped her fingers around her wrist. She looked at her arm, raised a considering brow, and slid her hand down an inch.</p>
<p>Hermione dropped the plate on the counter. </p>
<p>Pansy laughed so hard her face turned red. "The blokes on the Slytherin Quidditch team called him Dragon Dick, Granger. And it <em>wasn't</em> because of his name."</p>
<p>Hermione stared at empty air, her mind racing. Heat rushed to her cheeks and she pressed her thighs together. "That's—He. I have to go. Now. Right now. I'm going to be late for work. Bye, Pansy!"</p>
<p>She bolted from the kitchen, Pansy's laugh following her to the Floo.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They'd made little progress on the case in the three days since Gwen Morgan had been identified. Hermione stared at a file, the words blurring together as her head started to sink. The file disappeared, a steaming mug of tea appearing in its place. Hermione blinked and sat up in her chair at the conference table. "Oh," she said. "Thank you, Draco. But I was reading that."</p><p>"You were dozing over that," Draco said. "Your eyes were closed. Have some tea, take a break from reading. You stayed late to help me but that doesn't mean you have to wear yourself out in the process."</p><p>Hermione considered protesting but a yawn stopped her. Wrinkling her nose at Draco's quick grin, she leaned back in the office chair and cradled the mug in both hands. She watched Draco move along the evidence board he and the Auror trainees had assembled, occasionally moving a note to a different location and stepping back to look over it again.</p><p>"Has her family come to collect her remains?" Hermione asked when Draco paused in front of the section for the fourth victim, Gwen.</p><p>He shook his head. "There's some trouble with getting them here. Think they're going to have to sign a release for her boyfriend to take her, and then he can transfer her to them. The Muggle Liaison Office is handling all of that."</p><p>He took the rose pendant off a thumbtack beneath Gwen's photograph and ran the chain of it through his fingers as he considered the board again. "What I can't determine," he said, "is how he's choosing his victims. The only physical thing they have in common is that they're all women. I'd thought it might be location, but—" He tapped Gwen's picture. "She was found in Gwithian, all the way out in Cornwall. Even with Apparition, that's one hell of a distance from the others. If the area around Leeds is my killer's primary zone, what was he doing out there?"</p><p>"Maybe he wanted to see Tintagel," Hermione offered. "Could be a fan of Arthurian legend. Or Penzance is nearby. He might love Gilbert and Sullivan."</p><p>Draco looked over his shoulder at her. His expression was so confused that she couldn't help laughing. "Gilbert and Sullivan wrote comic operas in the nineteenth century. One of them is about pirates who are actually noblemen. They're from Penzance."</p><p>Shrugging, Draco wrote on a small square of paper. "Penzance. Tintagel." He added it to the board.</p><p>"I was joking, Draco!" Hermione set her tea aside and went to the board to snatch the note down. "Don't put that on there. I was making up ideas for why he may have been that far out of his zone, not seriously theorizing."</p><p>"Any idea is a worthwhile one at this point." Draco caught her wrist and pried the note out of her fingers. He smoothed out the paper and reattached it to the board. "Even a farfetched suggestion could be valuable. Let's not eliminate it just yet."</p><p>"It's ridiculous. There's no justification to say that he could have gone to either place."</p><p>"And there's nothing that says he might not. I have very little about him, Granger. I'll take anything. All I know is one, he binds women, kills them, dumps their bodies, and two, there's a scent left behind on all of them. That's not helpful to anyone but me, really. I doubt it would have been noticed if I wasn't on the case." He held up the necklace. "And three, there's one of these left on each victim. That's not much to go on. I can't even say for certain that he's a he. Could be a woman, for all I know, though it's unlikely. Most women don't have the strength to strangle someone."</p><p>Hermione reached for the pendant but drew her hand back. "Is it all right if I touch?"</p><p>"They've been examined and had protective charms applied. You won't contaminate any trace." Draco held the necklace out by the chain.</p><p>Hermione lifted the rose pendant on her palm and took a close look at it. "This definitely looks like the logo for the Thorned Rose. The rules pamphlet had it at the top of every section."</p><p>Draco nodded. "I meant to go around to jewelry shops and find out if anyone did custom work like this but I haven't had time. I recognized it from the first victim, after I examined her myself. But I'm not seeing how they're connected to the club. These women—" He gestured at the wall of photos and notes. "So far, they're all described as quiet. Kept to themselves."</p><p>Hermione lifted her brows and stared at him.</p><p>"What?" he said, after a long moment.</p><p>"I'm quiet and keep to myself but that's not everything I am. You've read the things I marked in the club's rulebook. A person's public face has absolutely nothing to do with their private, inner life." She looked up at him, her hand settling on his left arm. She squeezed gently, careful to keep her fingers close enough to his elbow to avoid putting pressure on the Dark Mark hidden under his sleeve. "You, of all people, should know that."</p><p>He looked at her hand for several heartbeats before meeting her eyes and giving a tight, close-lipped smile. "People believe what they see. Comes in handy sometimes."</p><p>"I prefer to look below the surface," Hermione said. "To see what's actually there."</p><p>He watched her face, then slid his hand under her hair and around the back of her neck. "You're good at that," he murmured. "Seeing what people don't necessarily want you to see."</p><p>Hermione closed her eyes, a pleased sigh escaping her. That little gesture made her feel protected and safe every time. She understood why it helped him when he was trapped in his memories. Feeling safe was something that had to be rare for him, something precious.</p><p>Draco put a slight pressure on her nape and she stepped forward, slipping her arms around him to rest her head against his chest. He held her close, fingers moving in idle circles against her back. Hermione let herself sink into the warmth of him, let him surround her. When she wasn't dreaming of erotic hours spent with him, she was dreaming of this. Doing nothing but being with him. </p><p>During the last 'practice' session they'd had, in his chair before the owl interrupted them, she'd started understanding that maybe neither one of them was acting, at least in the more physical aspects of their cover story. It was the emotional ones that she still needed to pretend about. Moments like this one. Hermione tucked it all into her mind, wishing she had a memory like Draco so she could never forget how it felt to stand with him and listen to his heartbeat as he held her. </p><p>"Hermione, you going to—Hermione?" </p><p>Hermione stepped back from Draco, looking at the door of the conference room. "Harry," she said, pushing her hair behind her ear and touching her neck where her skin tingled from the weight of Draco's fingers. "What did you want?"</p><p>"Just wondering if you were going to be heading home any time soon," he said. He glanced at Draco, who had moved to the far end of the evidence wall and was paying intense attention to a map, then back to her. He let out a small sigh. "But maybe not?"</p><p>"We still have some files to go through," she said. "I don't think we'll be much longer."</p><p>Harry hummed under his breath and nodded. "Right. I'll finish up some paperwork, check back in a bit." He looked at her, clearly considered saying something else, then gave a short smile. "If you're sure everything's fine."</p><p>"Go, Harry." Hermione reclaimed her seat at the conference table and drew another folder in front of her. "We're working."</p><p>The door made a soft click and Hermione made a face at her file. </p><p>"He worries about you," Draco said. "You can't tell me that he isn't justified."</p><p>She looked up. "He doesn't need to worry about me. Not with you."</p><p>Draco shook his head. "I wonder about that," he mumbled.</p><p>Hermione glanced at him through her lashes but anything she was about to say in response disappeared as she looked at a photograph in the file. "Draco," she said. "Draco! Look at this!"</p><p>He stood behind her, one hand on the table, one on the back of her chair, and scanned the files spread out in front of her. "What am I looking at?"</p><p>"This." Hermione held up the photo. A dark-haired woman lay on her back, arms sprawled out, with a length of rope around her throat. More than a dozen people stood behind barriers, gaping at the body and the Aurors examining the scene. "This is one of the unsolved crimes that I found. She was murdered in the late eighties. But look at her."  She took another photo out of the folder, a closeup of the face and upper body, then tapped the woman's chest, where a silver pendant rested above the neckline of her dress. "Here. Her necklace."</p><p>Draco leaned over her shoulder and shook his head. He grimaced, slipped his glasses on, and looked at the photo again. "Is that—" He grabbed the rose pendant and laid it down against the photo, swearing under his breath. "It's a match."</p><p>"It appears to be a match," she corrected. "We can't say for certain that it's the same necklace. I'd have to get the physical evidence box out of storage to compare. We don't want to get ahead of ourselves."</p><p>"Ahead of what, Granger? The possibility that my serial killer started over twenty years ago instead of last year?" Draco stared at the board, a muscle jumping in his cheek. "If it is the same man, why the gap? Why would he kill one woman and then not bother again for two decades?" He leaned against the edge of the table, arms folded, and rubbed his forehead. "What was the cause of death?"</p><p>Hermione scanned the report in the folder. "Strangulation. The medical examiner couldn't confirm the method. The killer could have strangled her with the rope, or strangled her manually and used the rope to disguise any hand marks."</p><p>Draco made a face and tossed his glasses onto the table behind him. "I hate the ones that try countermeasures. Either they end up sending us on a chase that wastes days of effort or they—" He grumbled, staring down at the floor. "Or they successfully distract us and they get away."</p><p>The timbre of his voice held more irritation than usual. Hermione watched him for a moment. She closed the file and set it aside to look at with more attention later, then got up and circled around the table. "This one isn't going to get away," she said, standing between him and the board. "You're going to catch him, Draco."</p><p>"You can't know that."</p><p>"I can <em>believe</em> that." Hermione took another step closer, slipping her arm around his waist. "You have an excellent solve rate. The average in MLE for homicides is just over sixty percent. You're closer to seventy. You've closed a lot of cases in three years, Draco. Put a lot of Dark wizards and witches away."</p><p>"It's not enough."</p><p>She looked up at him, at the jut of his jaw and the tension in his neck. There was something deeper behind his words. Something darker.</p><p>Hermione rested her head on his folded arms. She didn't speak. Closing her eyes, she held him. After a couple of minutes, he shifted, pulling his arms from beneath her to settle around her shoulders. She nestled in and listened to his heartbeat.</p><p>Draco stroked her nape before sighing under his breath. "We should get back to work, Granger," he said. </p><p>"I am working," she muttered into his shirt as she wrapped her fingers around the leather harness at his back. She didn't want to let go of him. "Touching each other, being a couple, that's part of work too. Undercover work."</p><p>Draco chuckled. "Technically, yes. But the way my luck's been running, the second either of us tries anything further than this, Potter will throw that door open again."</p><p>"Can't know until we find out," she said, looking up with her chin resting on his sternum. She let go of the harness and slid her hands down his back to hook her thumbs in his belt. "Maybe he won't. He can't interrupt us <em>every</em> time."</p><p>"No, not every time. Last time was my owl." Draco looked down at her, his hands settling on her shoulders. Hermione pressed closer, shifting one leg between his to straddle his thigh, and his eyes darkened. He slid his hands lower, down her sides, and bent his head.</p><p>The door opened. "Malfoy, I—"</p><p>"Harry!" Hermione thumped her head on Draco's chest and gave a helpless, pained laugh.</p><p>"And the point goes to Potter," Draco muttered. He lifted his head and looked at the door. "I'm starting to take this a little personally, you know."</p><p>"If I could open a door without seeing you groping my best friend, my life would be a lot better," Harry said. "But I need to talk to you."</p><p>"Can it wait until tomorrow?" </p><p>Harry shook his head. He held up a scroll, a long black ribbon dangling from one end.</p><p>Draco stiffened, his heart racing under Hermione's ear. She looked up at him, eyes wide. </p><p>"They're moving your annual meeting," Harry said. He coughed. "To, um. To next week."</p><p>Draco shook his head. "That's ridiculous. It's in June. It's always in June."</p><p>"Not this year." Harry held the scroll out to him. "Official notice. Sorry, Malfoy."</p><p>He took the scroll from Harry, set it down behind him, and grasped the edge of the table with both hands. "Notice accepted," he said in a flat voice.</p><p>"Draco." Hermione leaned back and looked at him. Draco's shoulders were tight. His knuckles had gone white from his grip. "Is there any—"</p><p>"Go home, Hermione."</p><p>She stared up at him, open-mouthed. "What?"</p><p>He took a slow breath and looked down at her. "Go home."</p><p>Hermione took a step back before she realized she'd let go of him. It wasn't the words. It was the way he looked at her. His expression was still, his eyes were calm, but something in his face had changed. He looked—</p><p>She'd swear he looked frightened behind the blankness of his features. </p><p>"Draco?" Hermione ignored Harry's muffled cough behind her. "What's wrong? What do they want with you?"</p><p>"It's nothing," Draco said. "Nothing you can do anything about. Go home. Don't worry about me." A muscle jumped in his cheek. He moved with slow deliberation as he pulled his suit jacket off the back of his chair and slipped it on, then grabbed the scroll and stuffed it into the inner pocket with his glasses. </p><p>Hermione put her hand on his chest. "Draco," she said. "What did I tell you at the Quidditch match? You're on my list. I'm <em>going</em> to worry about you."</p><p>He looked down at her. The tension in his shoulders eased and he blinked once before glancing over her head. "Do you mind, Potter?"</p><p>Harry made a disgusted noise, stomping out into the hallway. "You don't have to do this when it's just me!" he shouted back at them. "I'm the only other one in the office, and I <em>know</em>."</p><p>Draco shook his head. "Go home, Hermione," he said again, his voice much softer than it had been. "It's a formality. They ask me questions. I answer them. It's not a big deal."</p><p>"You're lying to me," she said, buttoning his suit jacket and smoothing her hands over the lapels. "That's a whopper of a lie, Malfoy."</p><p>"It is. But you'll have to accept it. I'm not saying anything further. If it will make you feel better, you can shout at me." She started to speak and he pressed the tip of his finger to her bottom lip. "Tomorrow," he said. "I'll come to dinner and you can shout all you like. Not tonight."</p><p>Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. His tone was light, almost teasing, but the skin around his eyes was still too tight for her liking. Whatever this 'annual meeting' was, he didn't like it. If it made him that tense, she didn't like it either. But looking into his eyes, she could see he wouldn't say another word on the topic. Not then. "Fine," she said with a sigh. "You get a reprieve. A short one. But I will shout at you, I promise you that."</p><p>One corner of his mouth lifted. "Good. I'll set aside time for it." He hesitated, making her wonder if he was going to bend down for a kiss, but he looked at the door and stepped around her instead. "Night, Granger," he said, his hand on her shoulder. He tapped his thumb three times, looking straight at Harry as he did.</p><p>She turned to watch Draco leave, avoiding Harry's eyes when he stepped back into the conference room. </p><p>Harry cleared his throat behind her. Hermione thought about pretending to be focused on the files on the table, then sighed and faced him. "Yes?"</p><p>"Going to tell me that it's still just an assignment for you?"</p><p>Hermione rubbed her shoulder where Draco had touched her. "You saw him. Those taps. That's—We developed that as a signal. A reminder. It's work. All part of the act."</p><p>Harry pushed his glasses up on his forehead and scrubbed his eyes. "It looks pretty real to me, Hermione."</p><p>"It's supposed to!" Hermione blinked at her own volume and consciously lowered her voice. "It's supposed to look real, Harry. That's the whole point."</p><p>"If you say—"</p><p>"What's this meeting about?" she interrupted, folding her arms. "What meeting? Why did they move it? Why's he so nervous about it?"</p><p>Harry cleaned his glasses on the hem of his shirt. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he said in a flat voice. "It's none of your business."</p><p>"I'm his <em>girlfriend</em>."</p><p>"You just emphasized that you're his <em>imaginary</em> girlfriend. You can't have it both ways. And even if you truly were, it's still none of your business. I'm not going to say anything. If he wants you to know, you'll know."</p><p>"Harry—"</p><p>"No, Hermione." Harry lifted his chin. "Don't ask again."</p><p>She stared at him, searching his face. She could see the determination in him. He'd faced killers and torturers, saved an entire world before he was eighteen. She was strong-willed. He was stronger. After a minute, she nodded. "I'm not happy about this."</p><p>He watched her for a moment, then shook his head. "Neither am I," he said with a sigh. "But I can guarantee that we're ecstatic, compared to him. Let's go home. I'll get our coats; you lock up. Malfoy would kill us both if any files went missing."</p>
<hr/><p>The notice had come early, before Draco had even had the chance to remove his topcoat at the office the following morning. A fifth body had been found in the wizarding village of Morthen. With less than a hundred living residents, the hamlet had a larger cemetery than Draco had expected. The grounds were well-kept, each stone clear of moss. </p><p>Harry had joined the scene because he claimed he couldn't stand one more day of paperwork. Draco had his doubts about that, considering the way Harry had been looking at him and Hermione in the conference room, but he hadn't slept well enough to have the energy to care. He felt groggy and half-awake, and he contemplated sending one of the techs off to find the largest coffee available in the shire.</p><p>Harry read aloud several names on the headstones as they walked toward the yellow protective bubble around the victim, his voice getting softer with each one as he recited the dates and causes of death.</p><p>2 May 1998, killed by Snatchers.</p><p>2 May 1998, killed by werewolf.</p><p>2 May 1998, killed by Death Eaters.</p><p>Half of the cemetery held graves of people who had died at the final battle that day. Draco strode past the stones, head high, his gaze never faltering as he opened the yellow bubble and went into the crime scene. He knew the names of the dead. His guards at Azkaban had read him the list every week as more died from their injuries. He didn't need the stones to remember.</p><p>
  <i>Fiendfyre rushing through the room, devouring everything in its path. Crabbe's anguished scream as the flames overtook him. Screams. Screams. Screams. Bodies crumpled and tangled in every room, in every hall. Mother's hand in his. Father's choked, sobbing breaths. Blood on the hems of his trousers, blood in the ridges of his knuckles. Aching bones, trembling hands, and a weighted heart. Finally. Over.</i>
</p><p>He shook himself, pushed back the memories, and focused on the prone corpse as he tugged at his trousers and crouched beside her. Close-cropped brown hair, a tan that spoke of a lot of time outdoors, a long surgical scar up her spine. The same rope abrasions, bruises, and necklace.</p><p>Harry grumbled, staring down at the body. "This would be a lot easier if our suspect had a <em>type</em>," he said. "Blonds. Tattoos. Tall. Something consistent."</p><p>"You know you're describing me," Draco said, casting his glove charm and flexing his fingers.</p><p>"Is it a tattoo?" the tech on the other side of the body asked with a curious lift of his brows. "The Dar—"</p><p>"Stop right there," Harry said before Draco could do more than tense. "It's none of your damned business."</p><p>Draco twisted to look up at Harry. "Potter. Appreciate it, but I get asked every couple of months about the whole thing. I'll answer this one."</p><p>He looked back to the tech, who had clutched his instruments to his chest and was gaping at them both with wide, nervous eyes. "It's not a tattoo," Draco said. "It's a brand. It's burned in with an extremely Dark spell." </p><p>The tech flinched and Draco gave an unamused smile. "And the second question you want to ask but won't? Yes. It hurt like hell. Want to know more, read my fucking trial transcripts."</p><p>The tech mumbled an apology and looked down, fiddling with his instruments. Draco gave a quick examination of the body, just enough to catch the scent and spot the V carved into her thigh. It wasn't his best work, but it was sufficient to confirm the killer's signature. He stood, crushed his gloves into smoke, and moved away.</p><p>Harry caught up to him at the edge of the crime scene. "You want me to put him on desk duty, I will. He won't be in the field with you from here on."</p><p>Draco gave him a sideways glance and shook his head. "He won't ask again. Most people think they're curious, but once they get the reminder that they're being nosy to a Death Eater, they stop trying to pry. They don't actually want to know that badly."</p><p>He touched the yellow bubble surrounding the crime scene, an opening cut in it with a sweep of his hand. He stepped out and immediately lit a cigarette, his head tipped back. They thought they wanted to know. They all thought they wanted to know. </p><p>Then they saw the tattoo on his neck, saw the Dark Mark on his arm. Saw him use a spell that could be twisted to Dark purposes with one change to the incantation. </p><p>Saw the newspaper he had framed and hanging on the cubicle wall over his desk, the headlines bold and filling the entire front page. <i>Narcissa Malfoy cleared of all charges. Draco Malfoy sentenced to two years. Lucius Malfoy sentenced to life.</i></p><p>Saw his photograph in the main bullpen of MLE, on the wall of known Dark wizards, a black line diagonal through his face and the words "in custody" still visible under a layer of dust.</p><p>They saw, and they remembered as easily as he did. He gave quick, flippant answers to some, gave a sharp reprimand to others. Most he ignored. His trial transcripts were public record. Anyone that curious could apply to read the ones the Wizengamot hadn't classified.</p><p>He shook his head at the thought of the Wizengamot, his jaw tightening. They'd moved up his annual inquiry. Draco hid a snort. Inquiry, he thought. Interrogation was more accurate. At least they'd given him time to prepare for it, though a part of him suspected it was more likely they were giving him time to dread it. He wasn't stupid. Several of the questions would be about Hermione. Now that they'd gone public, as it were, the Wizengamot was bound to question why he'd hidden their relationship for a year. What secrets was he trying to cover up? Reverting to old habits, Mr Malfoy?</p><p>"Malfoy," Harry said from inside the crime scene, distracting him from his imagination. "I'm serious. I don't want you bothered. Especially not on duty." He closed the bubble and stood next to Draco, watching the blurred figures inside the scene. "Could make it official policy to leave you alone on the matter."</p><p>Draco closed his hands around his cigarette and Vanished it. "Then you're only stopping the people who obey rules. Not a huge number of those amongst the Aurors. It's the sort of career that attracts people who work outside the lines."</p><p>Harry shrugged, moving out of the way of the groundskeeper who trundled past with a wheelbarrow. "Fair point. But you report it if anyone goes too far. I'm speaking as the head of the department here. You served your time. You're not a Death Eater any more, Malfoy."</p><p>"Malfoy? <em>Malfoy</em>?!" shrieked a voice from behind them. "I knew it!"</p><p>Draco spun around, but not fast enough. He collapsed with a howl, a rip of pain tearing down his right leg, head slamming into the dirt. He clutched at the ground, weak and shaking, vision blurred with red. He saw Harry's trainers running past him, heard the alert of his badge screaming out to every member of his squad. </p><p>He heard Apparition pops, angry screams, magic shrieking in the air. Draco fought to get up. His leg buckled under his weight, knee twisted out of joint. </p><p>"Stay down, Malfoy," Harry said, crouching next to him.</p><p>"Can't. Can't. Get up." Draco closed his eyes, cheek against the dirt. He tried to stand again but his leg refused to respond.</p><p>"I know." Harry touched Draco's thigh, causing another sear of pain, and put his hand in front of Draco's face. Blood coated his fingers. "You're hurt. Stay down. We've got this."</p><p>Draco kept his eyes closed, fingers flexing against the ground. He could hear screaming behind him, angry shouts about Death Eaters, murderers, scum. The sound faded, disappearing into the thump of his heartbeat in his ears.</p>
<hr/><p>Hermione glared at the Mediwizard blocking her access to the door. "Let. Me. Through."</p><p>"Miss, if you're not family, you can't—"</p><p>"Let her in," Harry called from inside the room.</p><p>The Mediwizard glanced over his shoulder, turning just enough for Hermione to slip—shove, she admitted—past him and into the hospital room. Draco lay on a narrow metal bed, a Healer at his side, one leg exposed by the white sheet over him. His bloodied trousers lay crumpled in a bin on the floor next to the bed.</p><p>Hermione took a deep breath, forcing herself to keep her voice controlled. "What happened?" she said, ignoring the squeak of her words. Her throat felt tight, as if she were squeezing down a scream. "What happened, Harry?"</p><p>"Ambush," Harry said. "We were on scene, and the groundskeeper lost it when he heard Malfoy's name. Apparently his brother died in the late seventies. Death Eater attack. He said a Malfoy was responsible and in his rage, he just— Malfoy <em>is</em> a dead ringer for his father." He looked at Hermione. "Attacked him from behind. It's—it was pretty bad, Hermione."</p><p>Hermione stared at the bin on the floor, at the blood staining Draco's trousers. "Is he—he. He's not moving, Harry," she whispered, afraid to take a step closer to the bed.</p><p>"He's in and out," Harry said. "Dislocated his knee and ripped his thigh open. Nearly sliced down to bone."</p><p>The Healer stepped back to make notes in a chart and Hermione couldn't take it any longer. Each injury Harry described had her heart pounding faster, her throat closing more.</p><p>She hurried to Draco's side, opposite the Healer. His eyes were closed, his skin almost as white as the loose hospital gown that swathed him to the elbows. She took his hand, his fingers still and cold, and for one long, gut-wrenching moment, she remembered her nightmares. Shuddering, she clutched at his hand, his rings digging into her palm. "Draco?" she whispered.</p><p>His chest rose as he took a breath, his nostrils flaring. His eyes flickered under his lids. "H'ne?"</p><p>He could smell her, Hermione realized. Even half-conscious, he knew she was there by her scent. Biting her lip, she moved closer to his head and stroked his hair back. "I'm here," she murmured to him. "I'm here, Draco."</p><p>"H'ne," he said again. His fingers twitched in her hand, growing warmer as she held him. His long, dark lashes fluttered. When he opened his eyes, they were glassy and unfocused, but he turned his head toward her. "Hermione. You? Y'here?" </p><p>"I'm here," she said again. "I'm with you."</p><p>"Good. That's good." He closed his eyes and exhaled, then sucked in a gasp. His eyes snapped open, pupils blown wide. "The babies."</p><p>Hermione's fingers ached from the sudden strength in his grip. "Draco, what—what babies?" She looked over her shoulder at Harry. "Were there children there?" Harry shook his head and Hermione turned back to Draco. "What babies?"</p><p>"The babies." Draco pushed at the bed, struggling to sit up. "My trousers, get them, I need—need to see the babies." He smacked at the guard rail on the side of the bed and knocked it down. "I need to see—No. No, they can't—They'd be scared."</p><p>Hermione grabbed his shoulders. She didn't have a hope of holding him in place if he fought her, but she'd never seen that wild look in his eyes. "Draco," she said, raising her voice to catch his attention. "Draco! You're hurt. You can't get up."</p><p>Sitting on the edge of the bed with the sheet tangled around his thighs, he brought his hands up and gripped her face. His fingers shook beneath her ears as he searched her eyes. "Where are our children, Hermione?"</p><p>She dug her nails into his shoulders, staring at him. Behind his back, the Healer pointed at her temple and mouthed 'hit his head.' Hermione closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them to smile at Draco. "The children are with Pansy," she said in a soft voice. "Pansy has them. They're safe."</p><p>The tremble in his hands eased against her cheeks. He let out a sigh and nodded, his face relaxing. "Good. That's good. Pansy, she—she'll take care of them. They shouldn't see me like this. Shouldn't see their father hurt." He stroked down her arms and drew her in close, head falling to her shoulder. "Don't want them to see me in hospital."</p><p>Hermione set her hand on his head. "They're safe," she repeated. "You're—" She leaned her cheek against his hair, unable to finish the sentence. He was lost in some sort of hallucination, an injury-induced fantasy, and all she could think was how <em>wonderful</em> it sounded. Babies. Children. She pictured a little blond and a little brunette, clinging to Draco's knees and smiling up at her, three sets of dimples and soft grey eyes.</p><p>"Mrs Malfoy, you'll need to move," the Healer said with a stern look. "He probably destroyed the stitching spell, moving like that. Sit over there with Auror Potter and let me have a look at his leg."</p><p>"Oh, we're not—we're not mar—" Hermione stopped herself, afraid that admitting the truth would make the Healer throw her out.</p><p>"She's his partner, Healer MacBrieve," Harry said. "And if you don't let her hold his hand while you work you'll end up with two patients after she has a panic attack from worrying."</p><p>"Harry!"</p><p>"Call me a liar, Hermione."</p><p>Hermione considered the position she was in: Draco's face against her neck, his arms loose around her waist. Her tight, protective grip on his shoulders, her fingers threaded into his hair.</p><p>She looked at Healer MacBrieve. She had no idea what expression was on her face, but it was enough to make the woman give a soft sigh and gesture to the bed. </p><p>"At least put him down," the Healer said. "If you let go of him now, he'll fall over."</p><p>It took her a moment, but when Hermione tried to get Draco to lie back, she realized he'd passed out again. Healer MacBrieve grumbled and flicked her wand, lightening his weight enough for Hermione to maneuver him down.</p><p>The Healer adjusted the sheet to expose his leg, prodding at the side of Draco's thigh and grumbling under her breath. "Of course, tore it right out. Hold his shoulders down." Hermione barely had time to brace Draco before the Healer swept her wand along his leg. Even unconscious, he jerked and groaned with the hit of the spell.</p><p>Healer MacBrieve repaired the charmwork and applied a salve to the wound. Hermione cupped Draco's cheek, bending low to murmur to him. She didn't pay much attention to the words she chose. It was the tone that seemed to be getting through to him. Each time she whispered his name, reminded him that she was there with him, a bit more tension eased out of his expression.</p><p>When the Healer stepped away to edit the notes in the chart, Hermione dragged her attention from Draco's face. She circled the bed to his injured side. Underneath the pale blue salve, she scanned the length of the slash along his thigh and the dark purple swelling around his knee. Now she could see the full extent of Draco's wounds and it made her chest hurt.</p><p>"Yeah," Harry said, coming to stand beside her at the bed. "Like I said, it was pretty bad. Think the guy was trying to cripple him. Lucky one of the techs at the scene had some training. Got pressure on it fast enough that we got him here before he'd lost too much blood."</p><p>"He'll have to stay off it for a few days," the Healer said, making another note in Draco's chart. "He can walk, if he uses a crutch or a cane, but no running, no flying until he's healed." She pointed her quill at Hermione. "And no sex, either. Too much stress on the thigh." After a moment, she shrugged. "Oral's okay."</p><p>Hermione gaped at her, unable to make anything other than incoherent noises for a moment. "That's—that's. Not an—We're not—"</p><p>"Thank you, Healer MacBrieve," Harry said in a loud, if choked, voice. "She'll make sure he doesn't strain his leg."</p><p>The Healer gave them both a raised brow, then adjusted the sheet and tugged the hem of Draco's hospital gown lower on his thigh. She flourished his chart. "He'll have several potions to take. I'll get his first few doses ready and set him up for discharge. He'll be able to go home after a couple of hours rest. I predict a full recovery if he follows his orders." She left the room, door slamming behind her.</p><p>Hermione curled over with her forehead on Draco's shoulder and burst into tears.</p><p>"God, Her—" Harry patted her on the back awkwardly. "He's okay, Hermione. He's not—you heard her. He can still walk. He'll recover."</p><p>"I heard <em>it</em>, Harry," she mumbled. She lifted her head, wiping tears off her cheeks. "I was in the conference room talking to his trainees when the call came in. I <em>heard</em> it."</p><p>The alarm had blared throughout MLE. Cotterill and Choudhury had both lost color, staring at each other before turning worried looks on Hermione. All three of them rushed into the main bullpen in time to see a half-dozen Aurors Disapparate on the spot.</p><p>
  <i>Squad seven, squad seven. All call. Status zero! Auror under attack. Malfoy down.</i>
</p><p>She hid the tremble in her fingers as she tucked the sheet around Draco's uninjured leg. "I heard it," she said again. "And I've never been that afraid in my life. I thought he was—That he might be—And I couldn't face knowing that he—I got here as fast as I could but I had to <em>fight</em> to be let up here at all, much less past that idiot outside the door, and what if he'd di—"</p><p>Her throat closed up and she swallowed around a knot of pain, fussing with Draco's hospital gown and the thin pillow under his head.</p><p>Harry wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her. "Hermione. I'm going to ask you this one more time and then I swear I'll drop it until you're ready. But—" He gestured at her left hand, shaking against Draco's cheek, and at her right, clinging to Draco's lax fingers on the bed. "You ran here as soon as you knew he was hurt. You're <em>crying</em> over him. Are you still insisting this is just an assignment for you?"</p><p>Hermione ducked her head. She stroked her thumb around the ridges of Draco's signet ring. Harry was her best friend, had been for years, and knew her as well as she knew herself. She wasn't fooling him. She hadn't been fooling him from the beginning. He already knew. </p><p>She didn't want to lie to him any longer, not even through omission. "I can't," she admitted, her voice barely louder than her breathing. "It's not."</p><p>"Does he know?"</p><p>She shook her head. "Not that. I think—I think he knows I'm attracted to him. That—That I want to do the things he's not allowed to do right now. But that's it, that's all he knows." She bit her lip, wrapping her hand around Draco's palm. "And you can't tell him otherwise."</p><p>Harry looked down at Draco and sighed. "He's not an idiot, Hermione. If you keep this up, he'll figure it out."</p><p>"It's only until the case is solved," she said. "Then he'll never have—we'll go back to being friends. Maybe." She brushed Draco's fringe away from his eyes and dragged one finger over the prisoner number on his neck. The bruise she'd put there had healed, no trace of her left on him. After the case was over, there'd be no trace of their relationship left at all. Even as false as it was, even with every time she saw Draco tap out their signal, she still held some hope.</p><p>That smile he'd given her—<em>twice</em>—had a lot of room for hope in it.</p><p>Harry patted her on the shoulder. "I'm going to go—" He shrugged and shook his head. "Why make up an excuse? I'm going to go somewhere else. Let you sit with him for a while."</p><p>"Wait, Harry. What if—what if they need to move him?"</p><p>Harry blinked at her. "They won't? It's his bed."</p><p>She returned the blinking. "Until someone else needs it or he's discharged or—?"</p><p>"Or nothing." Harry gave a quick, humorless smile. "Didn't notice that he fit on it perfectly despite his height? It's custom-built for him, Hermione." He tapped the foot of the bed.</p><p>She stepped down to see a brass plate attached to the end of the bed, curved around one of the rails. <i>D. Malfoy, Auror.</i></p><p>"Aurors and Hit Wizards all rank our own beds," Harry said. "Because we end up in them often enough."</p><p>"That's not very reassuring, Harry."</p><p>"No, but it's the truth. And it's something you need to understand." Harry looked at her. "As long as the case lasts, at least." He rubbed her shoulder and exited the room.</p><p>Hermione turned her attention to Draco. The Healer had left most of Draco's right leg exposed, the blue salve on his thigh hardening in the dry hospital air. All of his injuries had been confined to that leg, as far as she could tell. A massive slash down his thigh, the bruising evidence of a dislocated knee.</p><p>Below the knee, she couldn't tell if he was injured or not. Hermione stared, her hand hovering above his skin, the fine pale hairs on his leg tickling at her fingertips. From the knee down, Draco's skin was almost hidden by a swirling tattoo in shades of black and grey. She thought it looked very much like the Dark trace of his Apparition, as if he'd made that a part of him.</p><p>Tucked into the empty spaces between the swirls of smoke were four different dates. </p><p>5 June 1980–that was his birthday, she remembered. Pansy had made him a stunning brandy-soaked cake the previous summer that had left them all tipsy and laughing in the garden. </p><p>1 July 1976–that was early enough to be his parents' anniversary. </p><p>1 July 1996–that one she couldn't determine. </p><p>11 January 2007–she smiled as she traced the digits of the year. Pansy and Harry's wedding day. </p><p>Important dates, important days in his history. She tipped her head, considering the date she didn't know. That was the summer before they started sixth year, only a couple of weeks after the fight in the Department of Mysteries, after the Minister admitted that Voldemort had returned.</p><p>Her heart pounded in her ears. She dragged one finger under the date. </p><p>A couple of weeks after his father had failed to retrieve the prophecy. After Lucius Malfoy had been arrested and sent to Azkaban. </p><p>It felt as though a fist had clenched around her heart. She suspected she'd just learned the date Draco had been forced to join the Death Eaters, something he'd always kept closely guarded. Even his trial transcripts didn't have it. He'd claimed he'd forgotten.</p><p>She set her hand on his calf, covering the date and squeezing her eyes shut as if she would block it out in a way he never could.</p><p>Draco's leg twitched under her hand and she heard a soft grunt. She looked up to see him lifting his head, hands pressed to the mattress as he tried to sit up. "No," she said, scooting to the head of the bed. She put one hand on his chest. "No, stay down, Draco. You need to rest."</p><p>He opened his eyes, looking at her with a groggy stare. "Hermione," he mumbled. "How long have you been here?"</p><p>"A while," she said. "I'm not entirely sure what time it is."</p><p>He hummed under his breath. "Then how long have I been here?"</p><p>She rubbed his shoulder with a soft smile. "About an hour longer than I have. The Healer says you can go home today, once you're rested."</p><p>Draco hummed again. "Going to miss dinner. Did you shout at me already?"</p><p>Hermione went still. The Healer had mentioned he had a head injury. She stroked through his hair, finding the bump on the side of his head when he winced. "Sorry," she whispered. "But you—You don't remember earlier? The questions you asked me?"</p><p>"Not really. I remember going down, remember hitting my head, and—" He sighed, groping for her hand. "And now I'm here and so are you. I suppose you have two reasons to shout at me now. Wasn't looking forward to the other reason but I'll take the shouting about getting hurt. I'm on your list, after all."</p><p>Hermione gave a soft laugh and cupped both her hands around his. "You are, Draco. You're definitely on my list."</p><p>His eyes started to drift shut. "Tired," he muttered. "You don't—" He yawned, fingers relaxing in her hand. "You don't have to stay."</p><p>He fell asleep before she could respond. Hermione set his hand down, grabbed a chair from the corner, and pulled it up next to the bed, taking his hand again as she sat. "No, I don't have to," she told him, fingers laced in his. "But I'm going to."</p>
<hr/><p>"Mum, I'm fine. I've been hurt worse than this before. <em>Much</em> worse, and you know it. I'm conscious and walking, what more do you want? You don't need to worry. I've been home for two days and I'm making good progress."</p><p>Narcissa stared at him over the tops of her delicate half-glasses, one brow lifting at a glacial pace. "Draco. I am your mother and I will be worried about you for eternity." She wielded her letter opener like a sword, slashing through the end of an envelope. She withdrew the short note inside and read it with her lips pressed together as she rested the letter opener on the trunk of a glass elephant. "I see the Leveret family has invited you to view the lavender fields. Again." </p><p>Draco rolled his eyes and paced along the full glass wall of the morning room, obeying his Healer's instructions to take light exercise. He tried not to lean on the cane he'd found in a storage room and charmed to fit his height, but on turns he needed the extra support. "The Leveret family has six daughters, no sons, and a stack of debts taller than me. What a surprise, they'd like to get to know me better. Even if I <em>am</em>—what did their mother say when we went to 'view the lavender' that year? C'est un putain de honte qu'il soit un Anglais."</p><p>"You shouldn't repeat such filthy things."</p><p>"Then you shouldn't have insisted I study French. I learned all the filthy things my first week of tutoring." Draco stumbled on a turn and swore under his breath, bending to rub the still-healing wound in his thigh. </p><p>"Have you been taking your potions?" Narcissa sliced open another envelope.</p><p>Draco hid a sigh and sat on the broad, cushioned windowseat. The potions tasted like dead moths soaked in pickle brine, and he had to drink them five times a day. If it wasn't for the fact that he could feel his leg healing faster, he'd have thrown them all out. "Yes, Mother."</p><p>"Don't take that tone with me, young man."</p><p>"I'm nearly thirty, Mum. I'm hardly a young man."</p><p>She set the note on top of a stack of other letters and gestured to them. "Do you see these, Draco? These are all invitations to dinners, luncheons, garden parties, country weekends, and other social events. Every last one of them requests the pleasure of your attendance as well. Because you <em>are</em> nearly thirty and you are still a bachelor."</p><p>Draco snorted. "And every last one of those invitations also incidentally mentions a young woman in the family, I imagine. Sweet, demure, obedient. Willing to overlook such silly little foibles as a prison record."</p><p>Narcissa opened another envelope without looking at him. "Do you intend to marry?"</p><p>"Yes, I do intend to marry. Eventually. I'll do what you and Father want, find some well-bred debutante and—"</p><p>Narcissa slammed her letter opener on the desk, startling Draco into silence. "I could not care less about her breeding at this point," Narcissa snapped. "I think we have <em>all</em> seen the foolishness of that particular focus. Pure-blood, half-blood. I would even accept a Muggle-born. I no longer <em>care</em>. I want to see you happy and settled and to hold a grandchild before I die. Start courting a woman so I can have hope."</p><p>Draco blinked at her. "Mum. That's—" He shook his head, turning to stare out the window, his leg propped on the windowseat as he rubbed his knee. No concern for a bloodline? That would almost be fantastic news from Narcissa, if he didn't know there was still one thing that she <em>would</em> care about, even if Muggle-born was acceptable to her now.</p><p>The one thing stopping him from telling his mother she <em>could</em> have hope was the name of the specific Muggle-born he wanted. Hermione. Out of all the women on the planet, the one he couldn't get out of his mind was the only one he couldn't so much as mention to his mother.</p><p>"It's not that simple," he said at length. "Maybe after this assignment is over, I can—"</p><p>The shatter of glass whipped his head around. <i>Assignment.</i> Draco tensed, a chill running down his spine. He knew better than to say that word around his mother, but he'd been thinking of Hermione and he'd failed to watch his tongue. Now all he could do was brace himself for the response.</p><p>Narcissa sat with stiff shoulders, the delicate glass elephant on the floor in a dozen pieces. Draco watched her put her hands on the desk and push to her feet. When she turned around, she had a bright, brittle smile in place, her eyes wide and shining.</p><p>"How is your assignment going, darling?" she asked. "Do you need help? I can find help for you. I'll ask Severus. He can help you."</p><p>Draco closed his eyes. Not one of the violent ones, then. No screaming, no flares of uncontrolled magic. "Mum," he said quietly. "You're drifting. It's 2008 and I'm a grown man. I'm working for MLE. I'm an Auror."</p><p>"When you go back to school, talk to Severus. He'll help you, I know he will." She came to him, cupping his cheek in one hand and brushing his fringe back with the other. "We'll get through this, Draco. Take my advice, and we'll get through this. I know you tried with that necklace, but that <em>idiot</em> girl interfered. We still have time."</p><p>Draco clenched his jaw and looked into her eyes. "Mum. That was years ago. Snape is dead. The Dark Lord is dead. It's all over."</p><p>She grabbed his shoulders, nails piercing through his shirt. "It is not over. Don't give up. Don't you dare give up, Draco. You know the consequences if you fail." Her voice thickened and water filled her eyes. "I'm sorry he's done this to you, that I couldn't stop him. But it's done and you <em>must</em> succeed or we will all die. He'll be here soon and he'll want to know your progress and you have to have something to show him."</p><p>She stroked one finger behind his ear, following a small scar into his hairline. "Or my sister will chastise you again," she whispered. </p><p>
  <i>You dare to disappoint the Dark Lord? And worse, you dare to disappoint me! Bony fingers in his hair, yanking his head back. The point of nails in his jugular. The taste of blood on his tongue. Show me how penitent you are, nephew. Now!</i>
</p><p>Draco emerged from that memory with a soft cry, blinking away the images of hard grey eyes. "No," he said aloud, his fingers cold and trembling around the edge of the windowseat. "<em>Stop</em>. Don't say her name."</p><p>Narcissa looked at him, tears clinging to her pale lashes. "Draco," she said. "Tell me you'll succeed. You're the last chance this family has. It's a terrible burden for a boy your age, but you must carry it."</p><p>He'd tried twice and she hadn't responded. She was lost in her memories. He'd noticed things getting worse with her over the past several years, but at first it had been so gradual he'd ignored it. Now she was 'drifting’, as she called it, several times a month, and each time it seemed as though she was drifting longer. A few minutes at first had turned into hours. Now, she could spend an entire day in the past. Continuing to remind her of the actual date and argue with her mental unmooring would only lead to an outburst that could result in far worse than a glass elephant's destruction. </p><p>Striga had called him home from his date and practice with Hermione to deal with a bad situation. Three of the damson trees in the orchard would never recover from the damage of Narcissa's rage. She would get more lost in her mind than he ever could, even when locked in his worst memories. Nothing could pull her out, nothing could set her free. Not words, not a touch. There was nothing she could cling to as an anchor against her past. </p><p>Her memory was no match for his but she still relived those moments as if they were happening, much as he did. He managed to pull himself out after a minute or two, most times, even for the worst of them, but sometimes— </p><p>Sometimes he was afraid he'd start losing whole hours as well, trapped in his memories and unable to return, no one to pull him free of his own past. </p><p>Draco shook those thoughts away. He caught Narcissa's hands and carefully drew her down to sit on the windowseat beside him. He shut his eyes and focused on keeping his voice steady. "Everything's going fine," he said. "I'm working on the cabinet. I think I'm nearly there. I'll be able to get everyone past the wards."</p><p>Narcissa leaned her head on his shoulder. "Good," she said. "Tell him that. He'll be pleased."</p><p>He hid a sigh in her hair, his breath stirring a narrow white streak above her temple. "I will. Why don't you take a nap before he gets here? You know you do better when you're rested. I'll get the drawing room ready for his arrival."</p><p>"Make sure there are extra rats for Nagini." She stood and smiled at him, leaning in to kiss his forehead. "My precious dragon. Once you've eliminated Dumbledore, your father will come home, and we can start again. We'll be a proper family." She looked down at the cane he was using and made a slight face. "That thing is so ugly, darling. If those bullies at school hurt you again, use your father's walking stick. He'd be proud to see you with it."</p><p>Draco watched her stroll out of the morning room. He swore under his breath and drew his wand, summoning his mother's nurse. "Marie," he said when the woman appeared at the door. "Mum's drifted. Keep an eye on her, and make certain her windows are sealed shut."</p><p>"Yes, Mr Malfoy. How far back has she gone?"</p><p>"The year I turned sixteen."</p><p>Marie sucked on her teeth. "That far? I'd recommend the red potion, then. It'll keep her out through the night. Sunrise usually brings her back."</p><p>"No. The yellow. She mentioned her sister and I don't want her to stir up those thoughts any more than she already has. You remember what happened last time she thought she was talking to Bella." </p><p>Marie winced. "Oh, that poor walnut tree. Two hundred years old, wasn't it?"</p><p>"Exactly," Draco said. He stood, gripping the cane as his knee tried to buckle. "I'll be at the bridge until I've calmed—until later. Send a covered tray to my room."</p><p>Marie nodded and exited the room. Draco moved to his mother's desk and flicked his wand to lift the broken pieces of the elephant off the floor. He cast a mending charm and watched, grinding his teeth, as the glass fused itself together. Setting the elephant down on the desk, he shook his head with resignation. So many things in the house had been broken. He didn't know how many more times he could make repairs before something was shattered for good.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco gave a sidelong glance to the closed door of the bathroom, wondering if Hermione had emerged from the shower yet. She had ducked in there almost as soon as they had stepped out of the fireplace in the suite, and he found that he was a little relieved. It gave him the chance to sit down, have a glass of brandy and a cigarette, and contemplate what they were about to do. What he was about to do, at least. They hadn't discussed whether she would be stripping down as well. He wasn't sure which option he preferred.</p><p>Half of his mind kept saying, what the hell kind of question was that, of course he wanted to see her naked. And she had unbuttoned her dress the last time they'd been 'practicing,’ so she wasn't opposed to letting him, he had to assume. But she hadn't said that was part of her plan.</p><p>The other half kept reminding him that it was going to be impossible to hide his interest in her once his trousers were off and if she was naked also, well. No hope for him at all. It was difficult enough when he was fully dressed. And now they had gone and planned this and—</p><p>He groaned and fell back on the tall bed, sinking into the overstuffed duvet, heels thumping against the rail. Grabbing one of the pillows, he covered his face and swore into it. Too many decisions to make, too many options. He'd thought about stripping, he'd thought about staying dressed, he'd thought about letting her undress him, and in the end he'd managed to get as far as boots and socks, shoved under the bed and ignored. </p><p>He tossed the pillow toward the head of the bed and loosened his tie with one finger, tugging at the knot until it slid free. Any further steps were left for later, as the bathroom door creaked open.</p><p>Draco pushed up onto his elbows to see Hermione step into the bedroom. Her hair was loose and dry and she was wrapped in one of the club's thick, plush dressing gowns. <em>Well</em> wrapped. The robe dragged on the floor behind her as she held up her arms, showing the sleeves dangling past her hands. "I don't think they took into account that you wouldn't be the only one using these," she said.</p><p>Draco laughed. "No, apparently not." He sat up on the side of the bed, took his wand off the side table, and gestured her closer. She stood between his knees as he charmed the robe to stop at her wrists and ankles. "There we go," he said, setting his wand on the table. "That's better. Won't drown in it now."</p><p>He turned back to her and she grabbed his collar, pulling him to her. Instinct had him bending for the kiss, lips parting as soon as he touched her mouth, but he hissed and pulled back, prying her hands off his shirt. "Hermione," he said, shaking his head. "Not that I object to that, but, er. But I had rather assumed you'd prefer to start in a—" He shrugged one shoulder. "A baseline state, shall we say?"</p><p>"Oh." She cleared her throat, dropping her eyes. "You might be right." </p><p>Draco stood and gestured to the bed. "Get comfortable."</p><p>She looked at him with a lift of her brows. "The dressing gowns aren't the only thing custom-made to your height in this suite, Malfoy. Have a ladder handy?"</p><p>Laughing under his breath, Draco wrapped both hands around her waist and lifted her up to sit on the bed. She grinned at him. "Might get light-headed all the way up here," she said.</p><p>"I'll catch you," he said, brushing a finger along her jawline. "I'll always catch you."</p><p>She looked up at him and wet her lips, then took a deep breath and sat up straight, one knee crossed over the other, hands laced over her shin. "Go ahead, then. What we're here for."</p><p>Draco unfastened his collar and pulled his tie from around his neck, dropping the black silk onto the bedside table. He popped the cufflinks out of his sleeves and set them on a small silver tray next to his wand. "This isn't such a bad idea," he said. "Doing this. At the least, you should know my tattoos, in case anyone asks. You've only seen a couple of them."</p><p>"You didn't have them the last time I saw you shirtless," she said. She swung her foot as she talked. "It was at the Quidditch match not long after you made Auror. When you and Harry tried to make me choose Seeker. You hadn't changed into your jersey yet and you took off your shirt. No tattoos that I could see."</p><p>Draco grinned. "You didn't see my back, then."</p><p>She shook her head. "No, I didn't. So how many do you have?"</p><p>"Including the two I didn't have any choice about?" Draco tipped his head, silently counting. "Twelve. Though a few of them are integrated into one design so some people might not count them as individuals."</p><p>Hermione stared at him, eyes wide and mouth open. "Twelve? Where are you <em>hiding</em> them?"</p><p>"Under my clothes, Granger, where do you think I hide them?"</p><p>She snatched a pillow and threw it at him. Draco grabbed it out of the air, laughing. He set it back on the bed and shrugged. "My tattooist gets bored or he wants to try a new technique and he knows I'll let him do basically anything he likes."</p><p>"Show me." She swung her foot again and leaned back on both hands. "Show me, Malfoy."</p><p>He turned his back, raised both arms overhead, interlaced his fingers, and rolled his shoulders in a limbering stretch he'd learned for Quidditch. He heard a rustling noise and looked over his shoulder to see Hermione had shifted to kneel on the bed, her dressing gown falling open over her thigh.</p><p>Draco turned around to face her and pushed his left sleeve up to his elbow, the wide flare of the French cuff stopping him from rolling it. "This one you've seen," he said, twisting his forearm into view. "It's not a tattoo but for these purposes we'll count it."</p><p>She nodded and reached out to take his right hand. She pushed the sleeve up his arm. "And this one," she said, drawing her finger along the constellation. She slid the cuff higher and circled one finger over the serpent's head, grinning as the forked tongue flicked out. "And this too."</p><p>He caught her hand and brought it up to brush over his neck, pressing her fingers to the runes embedded in his skin. "And that. So that's four out of twelve."</p><p>"Three and a bit," Hermione said. "Haven't seen the full serpent." She paused, then snorted. "That's not what I meant, and don't you dare make a joke. I can see you grinning."</p><p>Draco lifted his brows and made an unsuccessful attempt not to laugh. "Fair enough. Moving on." He let go of her hand and tugged his shirt out of his waistband to unbutton it, with a deep breath to brace himself for her reaction to his Sectumsempra scars. Most people made some kind of horrified noise, a few even recoiling, when they got a close look at the cuts and slashes all over his torso.</p><p>Hermione looked at him, no disgusted sound, no pulling away. He stood still, watching her look him over, starting at the shoulder and traveling down the length of the largest scar, the end disappearing under his trousers. She followed the branching lines, the scattered others, then slowly back up to his face. </p><p>She rose up on her knees, the bed putting her several inches closer to his height, and held her hands out. "May I?"</p><p>Nodding, he stepped forward until his legs were pressed to the bed. </p><p>Hermione spread her hands across his chest. She traced the edges of the biggest scar, two fingers following it down his torso. </p><p>Draco kept his eyes on her face, letting her explore. He hissed, stomach tensing, when she pressed too hard in one spot. She snapped her head up and he sighed. "Broken ribs, fourth year."</p><p>
  <i>Shivering on the floor, eyes mere inches from the flagstones, students laughing, jeering, pointing. Small claws scrabbling desperately for purchase as he tried to run. Cold fear in his lungs, no ground under his paws, a ten foot fall to hard stone. Another fall. Another. A crack in his side and an agonized scream-squeak. Climbing to his feet, human again, eyes watering from pain. Do not show weakness, boy. Lifting his head, chin high.</i>
</p><p>"I remember," she murmured. "I told Harry you could have been really hurt. You <em>were</em>. I never knew."</p><p>"Didn't tell anyone," he said. "Stole some tape from the infirmary and bandaged myself up." Draco put his hands on her shoulders, seeing more questions in her eyes. "Don't fret, Granger. It was a long time ago. I've been hurt worse."</p><p>Her eyes dropped to the long scar. She bit her lip and nodded once, then slid her fingers under the fabric of his shirt to nudge it off his shoulders. Draco let his arms rest loose as she pushed the shirt to fall on the floor.</p><p>Hermione's hands slid down his arms to settle at his elbows. He twisted his right arm, letting her see the full expanse of the black serpent wrapped around him from elbow to shoulder. She traced the loops of the snake, dragged her finger across his collarbones, and stopped. "Turn," she said, pulling on his left elbow.</p><p>Draco turned enough to let her see the artwork. "Guess the flower," he said. </p><p>She smiled. "Narcissus. For your mother. Your right arm is you. Your left arm is your family," she said, tracing the flower's petals before following the swirling blackwork that formed a sleeve from his shoulder down to his elbow. She outlined the Malfoy crest on his outer arm and pushed his bent arm up to furrow her brows at the design on his triceps.  He felt her finger tracing out the empty eyes and curled pattern.</p><p>"My father's mask."</p><p>Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm not going to ask about it now," she said in a soft voice. "But one day I'll want to know why that's what you chose to represent him." Patting his arm, she brought it back down to take a closer look at the blackwork. She tipped her head and looked at the swirls again, brows knotting. "There's something in this," she said.</p><p>He waited, hiding a smile as she leaned in to peer at his arm. "Give up?"</p><p>Hermione huffed and poked the center of the Malfoy crest. "Yes."</p><p>Draco passed his hand down his arm. The swirls shifted, small letters becoming visible. His name formed the point of one swirl, with Lucius following, then Abraxas. Names twisted around his arm, dozens of names to the top of the design at his shoulder. "Every Malfoy in the line, back to 1066," he said. </p><p>Hermione's eyes widened. "I knew your family line was long, but—A thou—Malfoy. Are you serious? You can trace your ancestry for a <em>thousand</em> years?"</p><p>"That's just the English branch," he said. "Armand Malfoy came here with William and he granted us the land in Wiltshire. We've been there since."</p><p>
  <i>We have protected this land and this family with magic and blood for centuries and we will continue to do so for centuries more. Kings rise, emperors fall, and the Malfoys remain standing. One day you will be called upon to defend us, and I expect you to do so. You have one life and it belongs to this family. Do not disgrace our name.</i>
</p><p>He cleared his throat and gave her a quick smile. "That's seven," he said. "Mark, numbers, constellation, serpent, narcissus, mask, crest. One more above the waist."</p><p>She scanned up his arm, across his chest, and down the other arm, then her eyes narrowed. "All that's left is your back," she said.</p><p>"Brace yourself," he said with a grin. "This one tends to get attention."</p><p>He turned around.</p><p>Hermione made a high-pitched squeak.</p><p>Draco pressed his lips tight to keep from laughing. Most people swore, some whistled in disbelief, but no one else had made that sound in response to seeing his second namesake tattoo. A black dragon covered his entire back, sitting upright along his spine, wings spread across his shoulderblades and lats, tail coiled to one side of his waist. "Pet his muzzle," he said, looking over his shoulder.</p><p>Hermione's hand shook as she reached up. She started high, between the dragon's standing spikes, and dragged her fingers down to its nose. She yelped and snatched her hand back.</p><p>Draco had never seen the spell in action except in a mirror, but he knew what she'd just watched. The touch caused smoke to pour from the dragon's nostrils. The tail uncoiled, wrapped around his body, and flicked back into place as the smoke faded.</p><p>Hermione petted him again, pausing to watch the smoke. She did it several times and each time, her grin widened. "That's amazing," she said. "I can't imagine how long it took. Do you know how much charm work went into it?"</p><p>"Well, I was <em>there</em> while it was being done, so yes."</p><p>She smacked both hands on his shoulders. "That's not what I meant and you know it."</p><p>"I paid an ungodly amount of coin to my artist for it, and I had to come back once a week for a month, that's all I know." Draco turned to face her. </p><p>Hermione lifted her hands as he moved, then settled them around his neck. "The dragon makes eight," she said. "But you said you have twelve."</p><p>Draco looked into her eyes, his smile fading. "The others are on my legs." He flicked at the sash of her dressing gown. "If you want to see the rest of them, I'll have to take my trousers off and that's the last thing I'm wearing." </p><p>"Wasn't that the plan? To let me see you? All of you?" Her fingers drummed on the back of his neck, then she met his eyes. "I want to see."</p><p>He watched her face, looking for any hint of anxiety in her eyes. All he saw was anticipation. He took a shallow inhale and had to close his eyes. He caught the faintest hint of salt, that scent that was intimately <em>her</em>. "That was the plan, yes. But it's not too late to back out. This is—This is a big step, Hermione."</p><p>She shook her head. "I didn't back out at the start of this. I'm not going to now." She drew one finger around the curve of his ear and down the line of his neck. Draco hid a shiver. She'd used a firmer touch than she had in the garden before their first 'practice,' and this time she'd got it right. His ears were sensitive, and a proper caress could make his nerves spark.</p><p>Draco's heartbeat raced as he forced himself to think of paperwork and safety training seminars. Anything dull and boring and guaranteed to distract him. "There's a Snitch and a broom on my left thigh, and a flower and flame on my calf for Pansy and Blaise." Draco wet his lips. "And since you were at the hospital with me, you saw the work on my right. And I'm telling you this because—Because once my trousers are off, you're not going to look at the tattoos," he said, opening his eyes. "Let's be honest."</p><p>"No," she whispered. "Not if I'm being honest."</p><p>"Then look at me," he said quietly, taking her hands and putting them on top of his shoulders. "Keep your eyes on me." He locked eyes with her and dropped his hands to his belt. </p><p>In the silence of the room, the metallic jingle seemed to echo. He kept watching her eyes as he undid the button on his trousers and slid the zipper down. Hermione's hands flexed on his shoulders but she kept her head up.</p><p>Draco hooked his thumbs into his waistband and pushed the trousers off. The belt buckle hit the floor with a soft thud. He kicked everything to one side, still staring into Hermione's eyes. Her scent was stronger and her eyes were dark. Neither one of them could claim to be acting now, and he knew it. </p><p>"Let's be honest about one more thing," he said, his voice dropping into a growl. Watching her face, seeing the same thing in her eyes that he knew was in his, gave him the same feeling he had right before he took a dangerous dive on his broom. A rush of nerves, a pounding heart. Taking a slow breath, he made his choice to <em>go</em>.</p><p>He brushed his thumb across her lower lip, tapped once.</p><p>Tapped twice.</p><p>And leaned in to whisper into her ear. "That's as many taps as I'm going to give tonight."</p><p>Hermione shuddered. Her hands flexed on his shoulders. She kissed the point of his jaw and looked down.</p><p>"Oh, <em>god</em>." She stared, not moving, eyes slowly getting wider and wider. Her voice dropped to a whisper and she snapped her head up. "Is that—that's. Soft?"</p><p>"I warned you." Draco silently focused every ounce of willpower he had on not letting his blood rush south. It was difficult, with Hermione staring at him like that. He'd fantasized hundreds of times how she'd look when she first saw him, and he'd been wrong every time. The reality was indescribable.</p><p>Her fingers slid down his chest, thumbs angling toward his navel. Draco grabbed her wrists, holding her in place as his cock twitched in response. "Not. The best idea." </p><p>He didn't think it was possible for her eyes to widen any further, but they did. She looked down again, her cheeks flushing a brilliant pink. "What do you—oh. You just—Well. Less soft now."</p><p>She scraped her nails on his stomach and all the concentration in the world was no help to him then. He felt another, more intense twitch, and Draco's grip around her wrists loosened as he stifled a grunt. "Hermione." He gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. "We've had this discussion. I can't stop that."</p><p>Hermione slid her hands up his chest to wrap around his neck. She leaned forward, tipping her head until he could feel the puffs of her breath on his lips as she spoke. "Then I have a suggestion," she murmured. "Don't try to stop it."</p><p>She tapped the back of his neck once, twice.</p><p>And slid her hands down his arms, smiling at him.</p><p>Something in the depths of his mind gave a satisfied rumble. Draco didn't think beyond the roar of his blood in his ears. He reached down and grabbed her thighs, yanking them forward and knocking her onto her back. Slamming his hands to the bed on either side of her, he leaned down and kissed her. </p><p>She drove her hands into his hair and opened for the kiss without hesitating. Arching her spine, she scraped her nails over his ribs to dig into his back. "Draco," she moaned. "<em>Please</em>." </p><p>Draco growled, biting at her bottom lip, and wrapped both hands around her waist. He gripped the thick material of her dressing gown, broke the kiss, and shoved her toward the pillows, straightening her out on the bed. Keeping his eyes on hers, he climbed up to join her, crawling over her legs and high enough to kiss her again, then dropped to his side and rolled onto his back. </p><p>Hermione stretched out as well, edging closer, and he lifted his arm to let her move in against his side. "Take a look," he said. Her fingers crept across his ribs and Draco grabbed her wrist, flattening her hand on his stomach. "No," he said, eyes flying open. He was barely holding on to his control as it was. This plan to let her see him should have been thought through a little more, he realized. He admitted to being an exhibitionist, visited the club specifically to show off, and now that Hermione was the one watching him, he'd never been so desperate to <em>be</em> watched. "Look. Don't touch."</p><p>He wrapped his free hand in her hair, tugging her head to him, and kissed her again. He deliberately kept it slow and shallow, holding back to keep from dragging her on top of him. Hermione nestled in against him, her hand relaxing on his stomach, and Draco purred. "That's it," he murmured to her. "Good, Hermione."</p><p>"Am I?" she asked, nipping at the curve of his ear. "Sir?"</p><p>Draco couldn't stop the groan, even with his lips pressed tight together. He hadn't expected her to use that title, not away from their roles in the club itself, and he felt his cock move against his thigh. "Yes," he said. "You are, pet."</p><p>Hermione shivered and curled to kiss the tip of the long Sectumsempra scar on his shoulder. She looked down at him, her hair spreading across his chest. </p><p>Draco grunted, his heart pounding, cock pulsing. </p><p>Hermione made a soft noise and moved her head to slide her hair across his skin. "Oh," she whispered when his cock moved in response. "You <em>do</em> like my hair."</p><p>Draco wrapped his arm around her waist and gave up on trying to breathe steadily. "Yeah," he muttered. "I really do."</p><p>Hermione turned in the circle of his arm and pushed up to kiss him again. "So I would never pull my hair back," she said against his mouth. "Even if I was on my knees for you."</p><p>Heat <em>rolled</em> across his chest and down his stomach. Draco clutched her against him, head tipping back as he groaned. Blood rushed to his cock so fast he felt dizzy. While she kissed him, he wrapped his hand around his length and dragged his foreskin down, exposing the head. If she wanted to see, he was going to let her see everything.</p><p>Hermione looked down. "Oh," she said. "Oh, now that—that's what you meant." She spread her hand across his stomach beneath his navel. Her voice tightened. "Okay. Yes. Definitely glad I didn't see that for the first time around other people. Because—because." She exhaled with a soft whistle. "Because <em>fuck</em>, that's big. That—that might <em>not</em> fit."</p><p>"It can." Draco rolled, pushing her onto her back, trapping one of her legs under his. The thick material of her dressing gown was plush and soft, and he appreciated that, because he couldn't stop himself from rubbing against her leg. He nudged her head back and sucked on her throat. "Believe me, pet. If we take enough time with foreplay, it can, and I'm very fond of taking my time." </p><p>Hermione moaned, wrapping her arms around him, as he found the bow of her sash and yanked it loose. He hadn't known what she had on underneath it, but as he slipped his hand inside, he learned the answer. Very little.</p><p>He brushed his fingers over the bare skin of her side, trailing down to her hip. All he felt was a narrow ribbon, a tiny strip of blue satin that he hooked on his thumb. Hermione arched her back, pressing up to him. Draco kissed her deep and rocked against her thigh.</p><p>Fabric moved under his chest and Draco looked down to see Hermione pulling the dressing gown aside, exposing her breast to him. Draco couldn't look away. He already knew he could cover her entirely with one hand, already knew the feel of her stiff against his palm, but now he knew what color her nipples were. Deep pink, almost the same color as her lips. </p><p>He couldn't resist. Draco ducked his head and licked the top of her breast over her heart. Hermione arched again, fingers threading through his hair, and Draco heard her pleading with him even over the thunder of his heartbeat. He shifted lower, bending to draw his tongue over her nipple.</p><p>Hermione cried out, clutching at his hair. She pressed his head to her, chest lifting to push deeper into his mouth. Her free hand dug at the duvet by her thigh, the soft material clenched in her fist. She rolled her hips and tipped her head back. "Mark me."</p><p>Draco growled into the curve of her breast. Private marks in private places. Just for each other. He opened his mouth wide and took as much of her in as he could, tongue flicking over her nipple as he closed his mouth, his teeth scraping along her skin. He caught her nipple between his lips, sucked hard, and lifted his head. Without stopping to breathe, he licked a trail into the valley between her breasts, over the purple scar that ran up her torso, and bit on the opposite side. </p><p>Hermione shrieked, bucking under him. </p><p>Draco sucked at the curve, tongue flicking over the reddened spot. Hermione's soft, breathy cries echoed in his ears. Hand resting on her stomach, he drew his fingers above the line of her small blue knickers. He shifted, intending to push her legs further apart and kiss his way down, but his foot caught in the duvet and the barely-healed wound in his thigh wrenched at his nerves.</p><p>Draco dropped to his side, struggling to breathe around the sharp pain. He rolled onto his back and swore under his breath. Hermione touched his cheek, concern replacing the arousal in her gaze.</p><p>"Leg," Draco said, eyes closed. "That hurt. I can't—" Growling, he thumped his fist into the bed. </p><p>Hermione's keening protest sounded as taut as he felt. "Yeah," he muttered, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling. "Agreed." He struggled to sit up on the edge of the bed, grimacing as his stiff cock swayed against his stomach. He held it still with one hand and rubbed his leg with the other. </p><p>"Annoyed as I am about the interruption, might be for the best. That's—that's not why we're here," he said, voice ragged. "We're still, er. The investigation. Still have part of the club to see. Look for clues."</p><p>From the corner of his eye he saw Hermione tug her dressing gown around her body and roll over, both hands trapped between her thighs. "Right," she mumbled into one of the pillows. "You're right."</p><p>"Hermione. If it helps, I didn't want to stop. I'm getting very, <em>very</em> tired of stopping when I'm with you." He sighed, the pain in his leg clearing his mind. "I'll give you a few minutes to change. I'm going to—" </p><p>He growled and scrubbed both hands over his face. "I'm going to take a shower." He shoved off the bed and limped into the bathroom without his cane, shutting the door hard behind him. Considering his current state, a few minutes was more than he was going to need.</p>
<hr/><p>Hermione was grateful for the stabilizing charms she'd put on her shoes. Her legs were shaking enough that she thought she might have had trouble walking in flats, much less the five inch spikes, without the charms. They'd been close in the suite, <em>so</em> close. They kept getting <em>closer</em> and something always interrupted them. If she didn't, at the absolute minimum, get Draco's hands on her tonight, she was going to burst into flames. </p><p>She held Draco's arm, following him through the club's main hall and up the stairs. They didn't stop at the first floor, but kept going, up to the second where they stepped into a lounge area similar to the hall on the ground floor. </p><p>For the moment, they were the only people in the lounge, and Draco dipped his head to murmur to her. "This floor is clothing-optional," he said. He pointed his cane at a door on the far side of the room. "Once we're through that door, anything goes. And we'll be expected to do more than watch, so confirm something for me. I have your consent for <em>anything</em> on your list?"</p><p>She looked up at him, at the tension in his jaw and the flutter of his heartbeat in his throat. He was as frustrated as she was, she realized. She drew his head down and kissed the corner of his mouth. "A walk-through for faces and anything suspicious," she whispered. "And then?" </p><p>She pressed close, rolling her hips against him. Direct and aggressive. <i>That's as many taps as I'm going to give tonight.</i> She was determined to make that true, on both their parts. If he didn't make some kind of move on her, she was going to because she couldn't wait any longer. She dragged her nails up his back and kissed him again. "Then do whatever you like. I want to be a very good pet for you, Sir."</p><p>Draco groaned. He dropped his free hand to her arse, pulling her tight to him. "That's it," he purred, dipping to set his teeth against her neck beneath her ear. "That's just what I needed to hear." He stepped back and looked her over. </p><p>Hermione extended her arms and posed for him, turning to let him see the seams running up her stockings. The green strapless dress stopped short enough to expose the ribbons of her suspender belt. A hint of the bruise he'd sucked into her chest showed above the low neckline, next to her purple curse scar. Another set of fingerless gloves covered her arms from wrist to elbow, a loop of fine string holding the pointed ends over the backs of her hands.</p><p>He gave her a quick smile and crooked his arm for her but Hermione slid her arm around his waist instead. She hooked her thumb in his belt, fingers resting on his hipbone. "Just in case anyone shows interest," she said to his curious look. "I want to be very clear. I'm with you and you alone."</p><p>Draco's voice held a darker rumble than usual and it made her shiver against him. "Mine," he said, settling his arm around her. "I don't share."</p><p>They went through the door and into a long, wide hallway. Several rooms led off the hall, open archways instead of doors showing the activities inside. Hermione could hear groans, pleading and begging, high-pitched yelps and low-toned moans. Draco hesitated, pinching his nose closed, and cleared his throat.</p><p>"What do you smell?" she asked.</p><p>"Other than sex?" Draco laughed under his breath. "Leather, wax, an absolute muddle of perfumes, rubber, and—" He sniffed with care. "And smells like they remodeled within the past few months. Paint and wood is relatively fresh. Should have cast a blocking charm before we left the suite, but too late now. I'll get used to it in a few minutes."</p><p>They stopped at the first archway, looking in to see a woman reclining on a table, a man beside a standing frame, and a couple in matching leather corsets debating cuffs versus ropes for restraints. Draco skimmed faces and stepped back, tugging at her shoulders.</p><p>Hermione wasn't certain what he considered suspicious or relevant to the investigation, but she tried to make as many observations on her own as she could. She'd never be able to remember faces the way he did, she knew, but she kept an eye out for someone who might have rope marks similar to their victims.</p><p>They went through another, more elaborate shibari room, a flogging room, and several other rooms, making a circuit of the entire floor. Draco paid close attention to the people in each, except for one. Hermione refused to allow him to look into the room. It was empty except for the people and one piece of furniture. In the center of the rear wall was a large throne-like chair, where a bald man in a bone mask held court over a half-dozen people kneeling in black robes. </p><p>She pushed Draco backward before he'd had more than a quick glance, shaking her head. "No," she said. "You can't see their faces anyway." She brushed her thumbs over his cheekbones and twined her arms around his neck, head resting on his shoulder as she rubbed his nape in a pre-emptive attempt to keep his memories at bay.</p><p>Draco bent down to her. "I'm all right. I know what's in that room. I've seen it before," he murmured, kissing her temple. "It's a common fetish. Obviously, not one I have."</p><p>Geoffrey passed them, carrying a crate of wine bottles. Hermione yelped and broke away from Draco as the corner of the crate hit her hip.</p><p>"Oh, Miss, I <em>am</em> sorry," Geoffrey said, brows lifted. "My apologies. Do you need assistance? Mr Malfoy can return to your suite if you would like an escort to the infirmary."</p><p>"No," she said, rubbing her hip. "I was startled more than hurt. I'm fine. I don't need help."</p><p>"If she needs attention, I'll take care of her," Draco said. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her back against him, looking over her head at Geoffrey as he tapped his cane on the floor. "I won't leave her alone."</p><p>"Of course, Mr Malfoy," Geoffrey said with a brief smile. He turned away, then back, the wine bottles rattling in the crate. "Miss, if I may. I'm given to understand you're Muggle-born?"</p><p>"Yes," Hermione said, leaning back against Draco's chest. "What of it?"</p><p>Geoffrey glanced at Draco's face and back to her. "Simply confirming information, Miss. We've been seeing more and more mixed couples at the club," he said. "And Madame is considering a Rose Ball to welcome people like you. We haven't had one in nearly twenty years. Something to think about. Enjoy your evening." </p><p>Hermione watched him carry the wine into the throne room, then turned in the circle of Draco's arm. "I think we've seen all the rooms on this floor," she said. "Were there any you wanted to see again? Or—" She drew one finger down his neck to flick open the top button of his shirt. "Or any you wanted to try?"</p><p>Draco shrugged. "I've tried out almost every room in this club," he said. "But according to the go-ahead list you gave me, you're interested in one of my favorites." He tugged her full against him, hand sliding down her back. "Let's go watch the wax."</p>
<hr/><p>Draco led her back to the brightly-lit room, where several sitting areas were scattered around, each focused on one table or bench. They went to an empty chair in a sitting area off to one side where a couple was beginning to set up for play. </p><p>The red velvet chair was armless and deep, accommodating Draco's long legs with ease. He sat back, feet wide, and leaned his cane against the curved back of the chair. Hermione started to sit on his knee but Draco shook his head. He took her waist and guided her to sit on the velvet between his thighs, her shoulders to his chest. "Can you see?" he murmured, brushing her hair over her shoulder before settling both hands on her stomach.</p><p>Hermione looked at the knee-high table in the center of the sitting area and nodded. She could rest her head on Draco's shoulder and relax while she watched.</p><p>Not that she expected she'd be relaxed for long. Her position had her pressed between his legs, her arse against his groin. His thumbs moved on her ribs, a teasing stroke beneath her breasts. </p><p>The couple at the table asked if everyone had a good view, then grinned at each other and set to work. Hermione watched with avid interest as the woman stripped naked and stretched across the table. The waxer started with a dark ruby red candle, dropping the wax from high up and checking in with his partner before continuing. It wasn't long before the woman on the table had her head thrown back and eyes closed, her chest heaving as she pleaded for more. The man holding the candle gave a low, wicked laugh, and splattered wax across her nipples. The woman shrieked, her back arching high.</p><p>Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her nipples tightened and she tried to fight back a squirm, but from the way Draco's hands locked on her stomach, he'd still felt her move. He tipped his head forward to whisper against her ear. "They'd be disappointed if they didn't turn on the audience as much as themselves," he said. "Don't hold back, pet."</p><p>She whimpered and nodded. When the woman moaned at another splatter of wax on her breasts, Hermione couldn't help cupping her own. She pinched her nipples through her dress, releasing them when she felt Draco's breath on her shoulder. </p><p>"No, pet. Keep going," he said, his hands falling to her hips. He pulled her more firmly to his body and rocked against her. </p><p>Hermione shivered. He was getting hard, pressed to her arse, and she thought of what she'd seen upstairs in the suite. She'd wanted to touch him, so much that her fingers ached for it, and he'd stopped her. He wasn't stopping her now. She didn't think either of them <em>could</em> stop.</p><p>She spread her thighs and dropped one hand to grab his fingers. She set his hand on her thigh, palm flattened over one of the ribbons of her suspenders, and returned to pinching her nipples. </p><p>Draco took the hint, his fingers moving on the soft inner curve of her thigh. He trailed up to the hem of her dress, down to the top of her stocking, a slow and even pattern on her skin, his other hand pressed to her stomach.</p><p>She tipped her head back and kissed the underside of his jaw where he had his head over her shoulder. "Higher," she whispered. "Please, Sir?"</p><p>Draco gave a soft growl and slid his hand up her thigh. The side of his hand brushed her bare cunt and he sucked in a breath of surprise. Hermione spread her thighs further, as far as she could between his legs. "For you," she muttered. "Did that for you."</p><p>Purring deep in his throat, Draco turned his hand and dragged his fingers up to trail through the trimmed curls on her mound. Hermione couldn't hold back the gasp when he cupped her, his fingers cool against her heated body. </p><p>Draco swore under his breath and bit the side of her neck. He rocked his hips, rubbing his cock on her arse, and muffled a groan against her throat. "I like that."</p><p>Hermione reached up and wrapped her arm around his neck, canting her hips to his hand. "More. Please?"</p><p>Draco went still for a moment, then he lifted his head, teeth sinking into the curve of her ear. "What do you want, pet? Beg for it."</p><p>"Oh, god," she whimpered. He <em>had</em> paid close attention to the things she'd marked in the club's rulebook. She writhed against him. "Draco, please. Touch me."</p><p>He gave a dark laugh, his breath stirring her hair. "Tell me," he said, echoing what he'd said the first time he'd marked her in the garden. "What do you want me to do to you?"</p><p>"Touch me," she muttered. </p><p>He laughed again and shifted, pressing the heel of his hand on her mound. His long fingers scraped the velvet underneath her as he curled them around her body. "Touch you how, pet? Like this?" He trailed one finger along the folds of her cunt, up and down, slow drags that had her trembling. </p><p>"More," she said, her voice shaking. "In me."</p><p>Draco parted her labia and slid his finger from her clit down to rest on her entrance. "Tell me what you want."</p><p>Hermione's entire body quivered as she clutched at Draco's hair. Years of fantasizing, weeks of pretending, and finally. <em>Finally</em>, he'd touched her. She forgot about the couple playing with wax, forgot about any other person in the room. Her entire world narrowed to Draco—his warm breath on her shoulder, his stiff cock against her arse, his long finger teasing her.</p><p>"Please," she whispered several times, faster with each repetition. She rolled her hips back and forth, Draco's cock and hand bracketing her. "I need you inside me, Sir." </p><p>He circled around the opening, then slid the tip of one finger inside her. She tried desperately to clamp down on him, to hold him in place and pull him deeper, but he withdrew, his palm on her mound, holding her labia open with his finger resting against her clit. "Beg for it, pet," he said again. </p><p>"Draco, please. I want your fingers in me." Hermione dug her nails into the velvet seat. "All the way. <em>Please</em>, Sir."</p><p>Draco pushed into her, inch by agonizing inch. Hermione dropped her head back onto his shoulder, groaning as she felt him moving deeper. Once he was fully in her, he stopped, his hand going still.</p><p>Hermione writhed against him. It wasn't enough. She'd imagined this so many times and it was better than anything she'd ever fantasized, but it still wasn't <em>enough</em>. She wanted him to drive into her, to fuck her with his hand, to fill her with his fingers. "More, more. Draco, <em>more</em>."</p><p>He pulled his hand free of her and brought it up to her mouth, drawing his finger along her bottom lip. When she parted her lips, Draco slid his finger into her mouth, resting it on her tongue. </p><p>Hermione closed her mouth and shut her eyes to suck hard on his finger, drawing her tongue around it to lick her own taste off his skin. Draco grunted when she pressed her hips back to rub her arse on his cock. "God," he muttered to her ear, drawing his finger out of her mouth with a soft pop. "I'll never stop thinking about you using your tongue on me."</p><p>He dropped his hand between her thighs and slid his finger into her, pushing deep. Draco bit the curve of her ear. "You're dripping already," he murmured. "Think you can take a second, easy."</p><p>He drew out, turned his hand, and Hermione took a long, shuddering breath as he slipped two fingers inside her. "Please," she said again. She twisted to find his mouth, kissing him with desperation. "Please, Draco. I can't—I can't <em>wait</em> any longer."</p><p>He crooked his fingers inside her, stroking across her G-spot, and bit her lip. "Show me how you like it," he whispered. "Do it for me, pet."</p><p>She reached down, sliding one finger between his to draw her juices up through her folds and find her clit. Head back, face turned to his, she drew light, rapid circles around it. Draco kissed her, murmuring praises between long strokes inside her. "That's it, pet. Just like that. You're beautiful, you're perfect. You're so good."</p><p>Hermione's skin flashed hot and tingling, as if she could feel Draco's hands running over her, touching her everywhere at once. She arched her back, grinding down on his fingers. "Please," she said. "Draco, <em>please</em>."</p><p>"For me, Hermione," he whispered into a kiss. He quickened his thrusts, driving into her, and slid his thumb up to rub her clit. "You're amazing. You're close, pet. So close and I'm so proud of you. Do it for me. I want to hear you come."</p><p>It hit her without warning, like a shock running through her. Hermione bucked on Draco's hand, grabbed his thighs and dug her fingers in. Draco shook and swore behind her, yanking her tight to him. Mouth open, cunt aching, she came fast, calling out his name until her voice shattered.</p><p>She slumped back, clutching his wrist to stop his movements. Shuddering with aftershocks, she closed her legs around Draco's hand. She could feel her inner muscles fluttering, clamping weakly on his fingers. </p><p>He clung to her as he panted against her ear. "Fuck, Hermione," he muttered. He nipped her earlobe and rubbed his cock on her arse, the length of it hard and hot even through his trousers. "That was one of the hottest things I've ever seen in my life." </p><p>She whimpered as he pulled his hand free of her cunt and licked his fingers. She wanted to slide off the chair and drop to her knees in front of Draco, to yank his trousers open and get her mouth on his cock, but she didn't have the strength to move. </p><p>The anticipation, the practice sessions, the weeks of being within reach of the man she'd wanted for years--it had all been building up inside her, a tension she'd known could only have one form of relief. </p><p>And god, that relief. She was trembling. Draco had sent her flying into one of the strongest orgasms she'd ever felt. If she tried to stand, she knew she'd collapse.</p><p>She twisted to curl against Draco, trusting him to hold her on the chair. He wrapped both arms around her and lifted her up to sit high on his left leg, tugging her skirt back into place before getting her settled. He whispered to her as she came back to herself, giving her soft praises, telling her again how beautiful she'd been, how well she'd done. "I've wanted to hear you screaming my name for <em>years</em>," he murmured to her. "It's better than I imagined."</p><p>Years, she thought. He wasn't the only one. She couldn't count the number of times she'd stuffed a corner of her pillow into her mouth or bit down on the side of her arm, muffling the sound of his name when she brought herself off at night. Hermione slid her hand between them, down his stomach to toy with his belt buckle. "Could have been even better," she said, her voice strained. She dropped her hand to his zipper, flattening her palm over his length. "Could have—Could have heard me with more than your fingers in me."</p><p>Draco groaned into her neck.  "God, do I ever want to. But—" He tipped his head against the back of the chair and looked at her, one hand stroking her thigh. "But my leg's not completely healed and you grabbed it when you came. I'm actually in a bit of pain right now." </p><p>"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry. Draco, I'm so sorry, that's—"</p><p>Laughing, he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in to cradle her. "It's all right. Just—" He kissed her hair, shaking his head. "Just don't think I <em>could</em>. Too much stress on my leg."</p><p>Hermione laid her head on his shoulder. "Do you mind if I confess to being really disappointed by that?"</p><p>"No. Because you're not the only one." Draco tipped his head to rest against hers. He was silent for a minute, then he cleared his throat. "Hermione," he murmured. "I'm tired of— The pretending. The hiding? I—I." </p><p>He let out a breath. "I want to take you to bed."</p><p>Hermione closed her eyes. Despite what they'd said to each other upstairs in the suite, despite the intensity of what they'd done a few moments earlier, she braced herself for a set of taps. He had his hand on her thigh, his other arm around her shoulders, and she expected to feel the signal, the reminder that none of it was real. </p><p>He didn't tap her. He kissed her, slow and deep, making her heart pound. When she pulled away, his eyes were gleaming. "Need a minute," he muttered, tipping his head back.</p><p>The waxplay couple were almost finished, the woman covered in several layers of red, pink, and purple. She turned her head to smile at Hermione, mouthing 'Brava' with a nod of appreciation. Hermione bit her lip and returned the nod after a moment. The man helped the woman stand, and she posed for her audience, the wax clinging to her body. She invited people to 'come to the tarps' to remove the wax. Hermione had seen an empty area in the back of the room, the floor covered in plastic, and assumed that was what the woman meant, a place to collect all the flakes and lumps of wax.</p><p>Most of the audience either went with the couple or moved to another sitting area. The table was empty, the other couple remaining was locked in each other's arms, and Hermione turned back to Draco. "I want to try," she said when he opened his eyes. "The wax. I want to try it."</p><p>His hand clamped on her thigh and she saw his jaw clench as he held back a grunt. "If you're sure," he said, his voice taking on that deep rumble that made her shiver. His eyes darkened.</p><p>"I'm sure." Hermione slipped off his leg to sit on the edge of the wide chair. "Pick a candle out, Draco. Green, if I know you."</p><p>"God, you do." Draco took a deep breath and got to his feet, hand slipping into his trousers. She assumed he was moving himself into a better position. He exhaled sharply and grabbed his cane, leaning on it a little more heavily than he had earlier in the evening, then walked across the room to a table filled with candles in dozens of shades.</p><p>Hermione brushed at a damp spot on the velvet seat, her cheeks flushing pink as she realized she'd been the cause. The club's staff must know their cleaning spells well, she thought, with that much velvet upholstery in the club. She looked at her shoes, wondering if she should take them off before she got on the table, then a movement nearby caught her attention.</p><p>She looked up and caught her breath as Colin Blackpool stepped in her line of sight. "I see Malfoy left you alone," he said, smiling at her. "Can't say I'm surprised. I don't think he knows how to really treat a woman."</p><p>Hermione tugged at her skirt hem, pulling it as low as she could while she sat. "He didn't leave me alone," she said. "He's getting a candle." She hoped Colin would take the hint that Draco wouldn't be away long, but his smile widened and he took a step closer.</p><p>"He should pay more attention to you," Colin said, taking another step. "I wouldn't leave someone like you unaccompanied. Who knows who might wander by and start a conversation?" He took another step. "Or more."</p><p>He reached for her hair and Hermione jerked away, her spine against the back of the chair. She caught a flash of movement and then Draco was there, his face set in sharp lines. He grabbed Colin's wrist, spinning him around and shoving him backward in one motion. Colin stumbled, falling into a chair hard enough to scrape it across the carpet. Draco stood between her and Colin, cane tossed into Hermione's lap. </p><p>"You've been warned, Blackpool," Draco growled. "You do <em>not</em> have permission to touch her. She's <em>mine</em>. No one touches what's mine."</p><p>Colin glared at Draco, his hands curling into fists, but all he did was snarl as he stood. He stomped away, shoving through a knot of people and snapping his fingers at a woman by the archway. She ducked her head and followed him out.</p><p>Draco watched him go, eyes narrowed, and turned to Hermione the second Colin was out of sight. "Did he touch you?" he asked, voice still low and growling. "Did he lay a hand on you?"</p><p>Hermione shook her head. She got to her feet with the aid of Draco's cane, her knees trembling. Her mind whirled. In any other circumstance, she suspected she'd be fuming at the implication that she belonged to any man. Right then, with the remembered feel of Draco's fingers inside her and the sting of his mark on her breast, all she could do was look at him and think <em>mine</em>.</p><p>She stepped in close, pressing against him, one arm around his neck to pull him down. She took his lower lip between her teeth and tugged on it, rolling her hips against him. Draco grabbed her arse in both hands, pulling her up to take over the kiss, plunging deep into her mouth. </p><p>She'd been tempted before to wrap her legs around him when he kissed her, and this time Hermione gave in. Draco seemed to have read her mind. As soon as she lifted one foot, he turned, lifting her and moving to press her back to the wall. Hermione clung to him, arm around his neck, thighs around his hips, moaning as he ground against her. </p><p>Draco slid his hands up her thighs and under her dress, kneading her arse. Hermione dropped his cane to rip his shirt out of his trousers, both hands sliding up his chest. His skin was hot under her palms. She set her forehead against his, looking into his eyes, and whispered to him. "I'm yours."</p><p>Draco's growl echoed in the room. He kissed her, claiming her mouth, panting against her lips. "Mine. <em>Mine</em>." </p><p>Hermione dragged one hand down to his stomach, keening into Draco's mouth when she realized his earlier adjustment had his cock upright, the tip poking above the waistband of his trousers. She brushed it and he jerked, thrusting between her thighs.</p><p>Someone let out a whistle and Draco went still. He looked at her as if he didn't realize where they were, then blinked and focused. She loosened her grip on his hips and he set her down. With a soft grunt and a grimace, he rubbed his leg. It hadn't been the best choice for him to pick her up like that, not with his injury, but she didn't care in the slightest. From the way he was staring at her, he didn't care either. </p><p>She bent to retrieve his cane and they locked eyes as he took it from her. Hermione trembled from the dark, needy look in his eyes. There was no pretense in his expression, no acting. Only want. She was sure he could see the same in hers. "I've changed my mind," she said. "About the wax. Not tonight." </p><p>She took a deep breath, her heart pounding against her ribs. Hermione wet her lips, took his hand, and tugged him toward the door. "Suite."</p>
<hr/><p>Even with his memory, Draco had no idea how they made it through the club. From the moment they left the waxplay room to the moment he shoved open the door of his suite, everything was blurred. All he could remember was the sound of Hermione's voice as she had writhed in his lap and begged him to finger her, the feel of her hands on his back and her thighs around his hips as he pinned her to the wall before she pulled him out of the wax room.</p><p>He could still smell the musky, salt scent as she fell apart in his arms, writhing and calling out his name. He hadn't noticed the waxy odor of the candles or the burning wicks, hadn't even been able to catch her jasmine shampoo or amber perfume. The scent of <em>her</em> had filled every breath.</p><p>He grabbed at his control, pulling as much of his rational mind together as he could. He was hard, almost aching from it, but the pulsing of his blood wasn't entirely that. He'd been tempted, just for a moment, to draw his wand on Colin. To punish the man who dared touch Hermione. </p><p>Draco dropped his cane against the side of a chair. "Hermione," he said, voice rough. "Downstairs. I shouldn't—I shouldn't have left you. I won't do it again. He never should have had the sliver of a chance to get near you and I'm going to make sure that he never—I'll have him banned from the club. He was warned not to touch you. I won't let him hurt you."</p><p>Hermione looked at him. "He won't dare to try again." She slid both hands up into his hair, traced around the curves of his ears, and dragged her fingers down his neck. "I'm yours."</p><p>Unfastening his shirt, she traced down the length of his biggest scar and followed it beneath his trousers. She pulled her hand across his stomach, thumb touching the head of his cock. Draco swore. "You don't—"</p><p>"I want to," she said, unbuttoning his cuffs. She stepped behind him and pulled his shirt off. Draco shivered as he felt her fingers on his back over the dragon's muzzle. Trailing her hand around his side, she moved to face him.</p><p>She pushed at his chest, guiding him backwards a step, then another and another. He realized she was aiming him at the chesterfield sofa only when his knees hit it. He dropped onto the cushions, grunting as his leg protested the sudden movement. His cock protested as well, the change in position tightening his trousers, and he leaned back, hand at his zipper.</p><p>Hermione stood between his feet and pushed his hand away. She unbuckled his belt and popped the button of his trousers, then lowered to her knees.</p><p>Draco thumped his head on the back of the sofa. "Hermione. I—I can't. My leg. Healer said—"</p><p>She grinned, her fingers hooked in his waistband. "Healer's orders were no stress on your thigh," she said. "You're not going to use your legs for this."</p><p>Draco closed his eyes as she pulled his zipper down. "Hermione, you don't have to—<em>fuck</em>." He gripped the sofa as Hermione pulled his cock upright and wrapped her fingers around it. Anything else he might have said disappeared from his mind. All he could focus on was the feel of her hand on him. He'd wanted this for years, dreamt about it night after night, imagined it every time he stepped into the shower or laid back in his bed with his fingers sliding down his length.</p><p>Hermione stroked him, her grip loose around him as she moved from head to base. Draco gritted his teeth, breathing heavily through his nose. He braced his feet and lifted his hips to shove his trousers out of the way, even though the tension in his thigh hurt. It wasn't enough of a pain to distract him, not when he finally had Hermione touching him. </p><p>Hermione put her hand on his hip, pushing him into the sofa. She slid her fingers up to the head of his cock and slid his foreskin up and down the glans before gently dragging it back. Draco bit back a grunt when she trailed her thumb down the underside, brushing the sensitive frenulum and circling the ridge.</p><p>He tipped his head forward, watching her hand move, and she looked up at him. She met his eyes and smiled as she rose up on her knees, free hand wrapped around the back of his neck to pull his head to her. She kissed him, tongue sliding over his with the same rhythm as her fingers on his cock. Draco shuddered and jerked in her grip.</p><p>"Like that," he muttered, thumping back into the sofa when she circled the pad of one finger over the glans. "There, just—There, <em>god</em>, like that. That's so good, pet. Just how I like it."</p><p>Humming to herself, Hermione followed his whispered directions. Long glides, shorter pumps, firmer at the base and lighter near the head. He could feel his heartbeat in the shaft under her fingers, could see it in each throb as she stroked him.</p><p>Hermione smiled at him, her hand slowing. "I'm curious," she said, glancing down at him. "How much do you think I can take?"</p><p>He stared at her, mouth open and panting for breath, as she sank onto her heels and leaned forward. She looked up through her lashes, eyes locked on his, and wet her lips. Flattening her tongue, she dragged it up the length of his cock, one long lick from root to tip. He grabbed the edge of the sofa and swore in a deep rumble. </p><p>Her hair swayed around her shoulders as she worked her tongue over him, around the ridge, across the head. She took her time, peppering kisses along his shaft, sucking on the head, before opening up and taking as much of him in as she could. Draco clutched the sofa and swore, groaning when he felt the back of her throat.</p><p>Lashes fluttering, she pulled up quickly and focused on the head. Her eyes brightened and her cheeks flushed almost as dark as the tip of his cock. Draco watched her in awe, forcing himself not to buck up into her mouth each time she licked a bead of precome off his skin. </p><p>He felt a tightening in his abdomen, core muscles tensing, and he put a shaking hand on the back of her head. "Close," he mumbled. "Nearly—almost. You're going—going to want to move. Don't want—if you don't like—"</p><p>Hermione shook her head. She stroked him again, watching his eyes. Faster, both hands around his length, pumping him in her fists. She kept her eyes on his face, never looking away from him. Draco felt his skin tingling, heard his heart thrumming in his ears. He tried one last time to give her a chance to move off him. "Hermi—Her—H'ne. Now, now, <em>fuck</em>."</p><p>Without taking her eyes off his, she ducked her head and closed her lips around him, latching around the head of his cock as he came. Draco's eyes snapped wide open in surprise and he groaned deep in his throat, unable to stop the short, quick thrusts between her lips. She held the tip in her mouth until the last spasm ended, then sucked gently as she pulled off. </p><p>Smiling with her lips closed, she kept her hand on him and stroked slow. She tipped her head up and opened her mouth, showing her tongue coated in his come. Draco groaned again as she closed her mouth and audibly swallowed. </p><p>He slumped against the back of the sofa, eyes closed, and fought to breathe. He set his hand on hers, pulling her away when he felt a twitch in his cock. Hermione's dress rustled as she rose and Draco felt the sofa dip beside him. He settled his arm around her and pulled her close to his side, her head on his shoulder. </p><p>When his breathing steadied, he looked down at her. "Hermione, I—" He stopped trying to speak when she tipped her head up and kissed him, lips together. Draco cupped her cheek with a light press to her chin. </p><p>She opened up for him and he kissed her deeper, sweeping his tongue across hers and tasting himself in her mouth. Breaking the kiss with a soft, satisfied hum, Hermione put her arm across his stomach and nestled in. "Not going to ask if that was good for you," she said. </p><p>Draco made an attempt at a laugh and subsided when his breath caught. "Don't think you'd have to. Fairly sure I got off."</p><p>Laughing, she dragged her fingers over the rough lower edges of his Sectumsempra scar. They sat in silence, curled together, while Draco's heartrate settled and his cock softened. He patted her hair, running his fingers through her curls.</p><p>After a few minutes, Hermione stirred. "Did you see anyone in the club who looked suspicious?"</p><p>Draco blinked, a small grin lifting one corner of his mouth. He didn't quite understand the point of the question, at least not at that particular moment, but he ran through his memories of the night. "Besides Blackpool? A couple of possibles. I'll have my trainees run checks on them."</p><p>She made a disgruntled noise and looked up at him. "Damn. I was hoping I'd managed to suck your brain out."</p><p>Draco laughed, dipping to kiss her again. He found his wand and cleaned himself off, then struggled to his feet. Weight balanced on his uninjured leg, he fastened his trousers. "You might have if you'd gone any further down."</p><p>"Not on the first go," she said as she unbuckled the straps on her shoes. She slipped them off and stood, rubbing her jaw. "I'd need a lot of practice to get <em>that</em> down."</p><p>She wrapped her arms around his waist and looked up at him. "We'll practice, right?"</p><p>Draco watched her eyes, his first, teasing response dissipating. There was something vulnerable in her eyes, something that looked like worry. He didn't know where that look had come from but he decided he hated it. He didn't want her looking at him like she was afraid he'd back away from her.</p><p>"No practicing," he said, eyes widening when she looked down. "No, no. That's—that's not what I meant, Hermione." He lifted her chin and ducked to kiss her, a welcome sense of familiarity in how far he had to bend when she was out of her heels. "I didn't mean stop. I meant—"</p><p>He shook his head, brushing his thumb over her lips. "I meant no taps. No practicing to pretend better."</p><p>She closed her eyes, shoulders relaxing. "Good. You said you want to take me to bed." She reached up and set her hand over his heart. "I want you to."</p><p>He caught her glance toward the bedroom door and he put his hand over hers. "Not tonight," he said.</p><p>"Healer's orders, I know." </p><p>Draco drew her hand up and kissed her fingers. "We should go." She threw him a startled look and he gave a brief smile. "I'd stay here tonight, but—Healer's orders." He turned her in his arms and pushed her toward the bedroom. "Go freshen up. Laundry service should have cleaned your street clothes by now. Don't think I should deliver you back to Potter and Parks wearing that."</p><p>She wrinkled her nose at him over her shoulder. "Pansy's seen it. She picked out the dress when we were shopping."</p><p>"I'm not surprised. Go on, Granger. Get cleaned up and changed and I'll take you home."</p>
<hr/><p>They didn't go through the Floo. Arm around her, Draco walked her out of the club's front entrance and through the cool night air to the main gate. Outside it, he drew her into the circle of his arm. "Do you trust me?" he asked her.</p><p>Hermione pressed close to him, head on his chest, and put her arms around him. Draco held her tight and spun in place, Disapparating with a crack. Instead of the dizzying swirl and the nauseating pressure on her skull, she felt her body flaring like lightning inside the black clouds of a storm. She sizzled and sparked, every cell burning. When they landed in the back garden of the townhouse, she clung to Draco, waiting for the fire in her nerves to die.</p><p>She took a shaking breath. "Does it always feel like that for you?" she asked, rubbing her cheek on his coat.</p><p>"Yes," he said. "I've tried learning to Apparate like normal people do." He shook his head. "I can't do it. I can't break my training. Not really a surprise, I suppose, considering the way I was—"</p><p>His voice caught and he closed his eyes, his cane dropping from his fingers and rattling on the flagstones. Hermione pushed him onto the wide bench and stepped between his knees, settling one hand on the back of his neck and rubbing in slow strokes, wrapping her other hand around his cold fingers. "Come back," she said. "Don't get locked, Draco. I'm here. I have you."</p><p>He clutched at her hand, lashes fluttering on his cheeks, and opened his eyes after longer than she liked. "Not a bad one," he said. "At least, not one of the worst."</p><p>Hermione kept rubbing his neck, waiting until his fingers warmed in her hand before she released him. She didn't understand why his hands went cold when his memories trapped him but she already knew he wasn't truly out of it until the icy feel left his fingers. Once his hand was warm in hers, she let go and settled her arms around his shoulders.</p><p>She smiled at him, touching her forehead to his. When he was sitting and she was standing, they could be face to face. She enjoyed the novelty of it and suspected he appreciated being able to look at her without craning his neck. He couldn't do that normally, not unless he was picking her up for a kiss.</p><p>The thought reminded her of earlier that evening, when he'd pinned her to the wall and kissed her so rough it had almost hurt. Her cheeks warmed and she stroked his fringe to one side, drawing her finger around the curve of his ear. "Did you want to go inside?" she asked. "Have a coffee or—" She didn't finish her question but she didn't need to. From the flash in Draco's eyes, he knew what she meant. Coffee wasn't what she was offering him.</p><p>Draco took a deep breath, glancing down at his cane on the ground where he'd dropped it, then shook his head. His face stilled. "I would, Hermione. I want to. I think we're both pretty clear on that now. But I can't, for a couple of reasons. First, Healer's orders. Second—"</p><p>He cradled the back of her neck, stroking her nape the same way she'd rubbed his. "Second, this coming week is going to be very difficult for me. I won't be in the office much. I'll barely even be working on the case. I don't—I don't want to take you to bed and then immediately ignore you for a few days."</p><p>"Will you tell me what's happening?" she asked. "With the Wizengamot? Your annual meeting?"</p><p>Draco met her eyes. "No," he said. </p><p>"You looked so worried when Harry—"</p><p>"Hermione. No. I don't talk about this. To anyone. This is between me and the Wizengamot and that's all I'm going to say. I'm only telling you that much so you'll understand that I'm not—that I don't mean for you to think—"</p><p>"So I don't think you got head and bolted."</p><p>He lifted a brow. "I wasn't going to phrase it like that, but yes."</p><p>She watched him for a moment, then stepped back, folding her arms as she paced around the firepit. "I'd like to say I wouldn't think that, but I might have. After what we did tonight, if you didn't speak to me again for nearly a week? I might have thought that."</p><p>He started to speak but she held up one hand. "You gave me a reason, Draco. It's not much of one, but I already know that you're not big on explaining yourself. You never have been. I don't like it but it's who you are. You keep everything to yourself and you always have." She remembered what Harry had told her about the fight in Myrtle's bathroom, the one that had led to Draco's scars. Draco had been breaking down, alone, with nothing but a terrified reflection and a useless ghost. He never asked for help, even when it was killing him.</p><p>She stared at him across the firepit, then circled it to stand beside him. She touched his cheek, tracing a fine white scar along his jaw. "I won't be angry with you if I don't hear from you for a while. I'll be worried about you."</p><p>"I'm on your list, I know." Draco summoned his cane and leaned on it as he stood. He looked at her for a moment, then pulled one of his rings off and bounced it in his palm. "Take this," he said, holding it out to her.</p><p>She tilted her head without taking the ring. It was small and silver, almost plain, but the flat top had an engraved image. It looked like a dog. "Why?"</p><p>"Because you worry about me. And it's the fastest way to reach me if anything happens." He limped closer to her, ring flat on his hand. </p><p>Hermione looked at the ring, her mind whirling. Whatever he was going to be doing with the Wizengamot, it was going to take a lot out of him, that much was clear. And yet he was still trying to take care of <em>her</em> worries. She took the ring from him and tested it on her fingers. Even on her thumb, it was too big. She set it on the index finger of her left hand and looked up at him. "I could put it on a chain?"</p><p>Draco gave a soft chuckle and took her hand to rub his thumb over the band of the ring. He murmured a charm in a language she didn't know. The ring tightened, fitting itself to her finger. "There we go. Now don't lose this. It's been in my possession for a very long time. The Blacks used it to communicate with the head of the family." </p><p>Hermione turned her hand in his. "How does it work?"</p><p>"I have a twin of it at home. I'll start wearing that one instead. If an emergency comes up, press hard on the greyhound and say my name. It'll signal me. I'll be there whenever you need me."</p><p>An inheritance from his mother's side of his lineage. She thought about protesting, about telling him that he shouldn't give her something from his legacy, but she looked up into his eyes and any objection faded. "I'll take good care of it," she said. "I'll take care of anything you give me."</p><p>"I don't doubt that for a second." An upstairs window in the house next door lit up and Draco took a step back, his hand falling from hers. "I should go." He straightened his shoulders, tensing to Disapparate.</p><p>"Wait," Hermione said. Draco went still, looking at her from the corner of his eye. Hermione tugged him down, like she had in the alley that first interrupted date at Gaudere. This time she whispered "Be careful" against his mouth before kissing him. </p><p>Draco gave her a brief half-smile as she pulled away. "Night, Granger," he said. "And thank you." He Disapparated in his swirl of black smoke.</p><p>Hermione went inside, rubbing the band of the ring.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You should thank that groundskeeper for getting you in the leg," Blaise said, flicking his wand at the lamps over the padded reclining chair. "I would've been seriously pissed off if I had to repair the dragon again."</p><p>Draco, hands folded over his stomach, opened one eye to look at Blaise. "I don't do this on purpose, you realize. I was ambushed. At least I'm off the cane now. I can't run and I'm still out of commission for flying but I'm walking." </p><p>"Thought Seekers were supposed to be fast. Slowing down in your old age?" Blaise shifted the edge of the long towel wrapped around Draco's hips, and took a look at the fresh scar. "Think this one's going to raise up like the big one," he said, pointing his thumb toward Draco's chest. "If I try to cover it, it's going to be obvious. I can work with it, but I'd have to incorporate it into the design, no hiding it. I won't be able to put anything that moves over it, either. I need untouched skin for the charms I use."</p><p>Draco tipped his head back against the thick, stiff pillow. "Can you extend the smoke?"</p><p>"I could but it would look strange. I can work up something eventually, if you give me a little time to design." He drummed his fingers on the dates on Draco's calf. "Could start extending these up your leg. You're going to want to add more in the future. I could put the day you made Auror there. Seems appropriate, since you got this scar in the line of duty."</p><p>"One of the few," Draco muttered. "I usually get injured off the clock."</p><p>"Like this one." Blaise tapped the tip of a thin white scar on Draco's right side. The majority of it wrapped to his back beneath his ribs. "You're lucky you still have both kidneys."</p><p>"That was an accident."</p><p>Blaise snorted.</p><p>"It was."</p><p>"Sure. Sure it was. You accidentally got into an argument in the pub with Aurelia's brother, accidentally turned your back on him, and accidentally got glassed. Happens all the time. And had absolutely no bearing on why you broke up with her, either."</p><p>Draco closed his eyes. "Don't know what you mean."</p><p>"Her brother was a complete dick about that weekend in Rome but was that enough reason to drop her? I'm sure you explained her broken wrist was the result of ill-advised shower sex, not because you used the Imp—"</p><p>"Stop."</p><p>Blaise went silent. The wheeled stool squeaked as he moved around to the other side of the chair. Prodding at the Snitch tattoo on Draco's thigh, he cleared his throat. "How many times, now?"</p><p>Draco kept his eyes shut. Blaise didn't need to fill in the rest of the question. They both knew. "Three." He lifted one hand, counting off on his fingers. "That secretary in Magical Creatures, Blackpool's playdate, and Aurelia."</p><p>He tucked his hands beneath his head, his signet ring catching on the stiff pillow. "Worst part of it is, it's never the women. It's always a brother or a father or a friend who wishes he was more than a friend. There's a reason I kept going back to Pansy. She didn't have any relatives around to accuse me of rape."</p><p>Blaise shook his head. "Is that why you're dragging your feet with Granger? Because if Potter accuses you of something nasty, you're not going to get out of it and it's a quick ride back to Azkaban?"</p><p>"Oh, for fuck's sake," Draco said. "It's never been true and I can prove it, every time. Get out of it. Get off my arse." He exhaled slowly, opening his eyes to watch Blaise examine the spells that let the Snitch fly around his left leg. "And I'm not dragging my feet with Hermione."</p><p>"You've spent three years pining over her. You're wasting time if you haven't introduced her to your dragon."</p><p>A pink flush spread across Draco's cheeks.</p><p>Blaise raised his brows. "What?"</p><p>"She's seen my tattoo, if that's what you're implying."</p><p>"It isn't and you damn well know it." Blaise wheeled around his head to his right arm for a look at the constellation. "I had an idea for the stars. I think I can make them twinkle. So have you?" he asked, returning to the topic. "Because that blush spoke volumes."</p><p>Draco stared at the ceiling to avoid Blaise's eyes. "We haven't had sex. In that sense."</p><p>
  <i>First. Wet heat around his fingers, soft begging in his ear. Writhing against him, panting and pleading, soft muscles squeezing around him as he reached deep into her. Then. Dark brown eyes gleaming up at him, warm tongue sliding up and down. Panting for breath, swearing and groaning. Fingers twined in heavy curls, a bobbing head under his hand. An injured leg he considered re-injuring, just for the chance to do more.</i>
</p><p>Draco coughed and dragged himself away from the memory before it could do more than make his heart pound and his cheeks heat with a deeper blush. Blaise made a curious noise and even without looking at him, Draco could sense Blaise's mind racing. </p><p>Blaise stared at him for a long moment, then shot to his feet, the stool hitting the floor with a crash, and pointed a shaky finger at him. "She blew you!"</p><p>"Fuck, Zabini, shout a little louder, would you? I still have part of my eardrum."</p><p>"You're lucky I didn't scream. I should throw a party. You're telling me you finally got some action from the woman you've been blue-balling to spread out on that <em>massive</em> bed you have for three. Goddamn. Years."</p><p>Draco put his hand over his eyes. "Yes."</p><p>"So?" Blaise picked up the stool and grinned at him. "How was it?"</p><p>Draco groaned and rubbed his face. "Don't tell Pansy this," he said into his fingers. "But it was the best one I've ever had in my life."</p><p>"Dropped Parks to second place? Yeah, I'm not telling her that." Blaise moved to the nearby counter and started prepping his supplies, filling tiny cups with black ink and opening packets of sterilized needles. "What did she do that was so outstanding?"</p><p>Draco lifted the adjustable arm of the chair, angling his wrist and elbow to position the constellation upright for Blaise. "She got halfway down. On the first try."</p><p>A dozen needles hit the floor with metallic chimes. </p><p>Blaise came to the chair, took Draco's shoulders in both hands, and leaned in close. "If you don't marry this woman, you will regret it for the rest of your life."</p><p>They'd been joking around like they always did, years of friendship and affection between them, but when Blaise spoke, Draco shut his eyes, turning his head away. </p><p>Blaise's hands tightened on his shoulders. "What is it? What's wrong—Is she—Look at me. Right now."</p><p>Draco turned back to Blaise and opened his eyes. Blaise had no skill at Legilimency, but Draco wasn't bothering to hide his thoughts. He knew what Blaise saw in his face. There were two people on earth he'd never been able to lie to: Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini. </p><p>"Shit." Blaise found his stool and dropped onto it, rubbing his scalp with one hand. "I thought you just wanted to fuck her."</p><p>Draco stayed silent.</p><p>Sighing, Blaise got up, grabbed Draco's trousers off a hook, and tossed them at him. "I'm not having this conversation while you're wearing nothing but a towel. Put those on, have a smoke." As Draco dressed, Blaise opened a lower cabinet and pulled a bottle of whiskey out of it. He grabbed his wand and enlarged two of the tiny ink cups.</p><p>He handed Draco one of the cups, full to the brim with whiskey. "So," Blaise said after a large swallow. He waved Draco's smoke away and snapped his wand to open one of the windows at the rear of the studio. "You're in love with her."</p><p>Draco stared into his whiskey. "Yes."</p><p>"Does she know?"</p><p>"No."</p><p>"Going to tell her?"</p><p>"No."</p><p>"Because of your mum?"</p><p>Draco saluted Blaise with his cup. "Because my mother hears the name Hermione and things go tits up." He exhaled smoke through his nose. "She's willing to accept a Muggle-born, if it means grandchildren. But you know she can't accept this one. No matter what I feel—" Shaking his head, he got up to refill his cup.</p><p>"Shit," Blaise said again. </p><p>They drank without speaking for a few minutes. Draco appreciated that Blaise didn't give him any platitudes or make attempts at brightening up the situation. Anything he said would be a complete lie and they both knew it. It was worth more to Draco to have a friend who understood in silence than to have one who tried making him feel better. He hadn't felt better about anything in ten years. </p><p>Draco finished his cigarette, dumped the end in his empty cup, and Banished them both. He settled back in the chair, positioning his arm. "You said you could make them twinkle."</p><p>At the blatant subject change, Blaise lifted his brows but didn't protest. He went back to the counter, spilled needles swept up and discarded, and opened a fresh packet. He brought a tray over, took his seat, and repositioned Draco's arm with a small grumble. Lifting his wand, he twirled it in his fingers. The needles attached themselves to the tip.</p><p>Draco braced himself for the slight buzzing sound, the acrid scent of the ink, the strong burn of the needles puncturing deep into his skin. After a few minutes, he closed his eyes, relaxing under the vibrations.</p><p>"Don't fall asleep on me," Blaise muttered. "You snore and it's very distracting while I work. I have to concentrate enough with this horror you call skin."</p><p>Draco smiled, the complaint too familiar to him. Every time he came to Blaise for a repair or a new tattoo, Blaise had to remind him all over again. "I know," he said. "Fucking pale-arsed Malfoys and so forth. We're all like this. It's hardly my fault."</p><p>"It's causing me to lose my eyesight, is what it is. Do you know how much harder it is to work the charm when I'm squinting not to go blind?"</p><p>"And every time I show off the spellwork, your 'side business' gets another client, so let's not pretend it's not worth all the trouble. There are at least twenty people out there with moving tattoos done by Zabini Inks and Parchments."</p><p>"I had to hire another apprentice," Blaise continued, wiping blood off Draco's arm with a cloth. "Going to have to move the studio. Do you have any idea how much rent is in Diagon Alley?"</p><p>"Buy a building. Do up the whole thing. Parchments and inks on the ground floor, tattoo studio next flight up. Live at the top, lord it over your domain." He pretended to scratch his nose, hiding a grin. "Get a longer sofa."</p><p>"You will scrunch your massive legs up to fit on my short furniture and you will like it." Blaise shook the needles off his wand with a clatter. "Deep breath."</p><p>Draco inhaled and held his breath as Blaise touched his wand down, the incantation little more than a rumble of sound. Gritting his teeth against the deep pain of the spell sinking into his flesh, he grunted at the final sting. "Twinkling?"</p><p>"Give it a few hours to acclimate. Come back next week if it doesn't work." Blaise dressed the fresh work with treated gauze, then gently laid the back of one finger against his neck, under the Akzaban identification number. "Still don't want to cover this?"</p><p>Draco tipped his head away and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the chair. "No. Covering it looks like I have something to hide. Everybody knows it's there. Same with this," he added, turning his left arm up. "Pointless to cover something that's listed right next to 'tall, blond, grey eyes' in every physical description of me."</p><p>
  <i>A shove in the back, an intake form under his shaking hands, the text half-blurred through a black and swollen eye, lashes stuck together with blood. Malfoy, Draco Lucius. DOB: 5 June, 1980. Height: 6'4"/193cm. Hair: blond. Eyes: grey. Crime: Death Eater. Imprisoned 5 June, 1998. A guard sneering. Happy birthday, bitch. Here's your uniform. Strip him.</i>
</p><p>Draco turned away, grabbing his shirt off a hook. He shrugged into it, leaving the tails to dangle, while he waited for his fingers to stop shaking. He flexed his hands and rubbed them together, warming his joints enough to let him fasten the buttons.</p><p>"Coming to Snakes Night this week? Or do you have plans with Granger?" Blaise said without looking at him. Draco knew Blaise would have been at his side in a heartbeat if the memory had looked bad, but Pansy and Blaise both had enough experience with him to recognize when he could pull himself out. The question was Blaise's way of acknowledging that he saw Draco was free of it.</p><p>Draco closed his cuffs and tucked his shirt in. He shook his head. "Not going to make it this week." He set his hand on his arm, fingers squeezed down over the Dark Mark before he covered the motion with a sweep of his hand to smooth out a wrinkle in his sleeve. "Things to do."</p><p>Blaise looked at Draco's arm, then up to his eyes. "Is this the kind of thing that involves extra brandy?"</p><p>Shrugging into his top coat, Draco shoved his hands into the pockets. "No. It's the kind of thing that involves wine."</p><p>Blaise stilled, both hands on the counter next to the ink and used needles. His shoulders dropped as he gave a silent exhale. "So I won't be hearing from you for several days, then. Not if it's a wine drinking week."</p><p>"Likely not." Draco hesitated, considering what he might say, but nothing came to mind. Blaise knew the few reasons he went near the Manor's wine cellar were never good reasons. He cleared his throat and stepped over to knock Blaise's arm with his elbow before heading to the door. </p><p>"Draco." Blaise didn't turn around as he spoke. "Owl me as soon as it's over. I'll bring the Delamain. Réserve de la Famille. We'll kill the bottle."</p>
<hr/><p>One of the oil lamps spluttered and died, adding shadows to the darkened study. Draco pushed an empty wine bottle across the desk with the tip of his wand, watching it teeter on the edge before dropping onto the carpet. "Plum and tobacco," he muttered. "With a finish of dark spice." He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair, head resting against one of the leather wings. </p><p>He pulled a memory of Hermione to the front of his mind and held it in place, then started building a mental wall around it. Stone after stone fixed into place, the blocks squared and finely milled, the same sandstone ashlar that formed the walls of the Manor. The stones fit together in his mind, a wall that should be strong enough to stand against any intrusion.</p><p>Should.</p><p>The Bordeaux he'd finished, his third bottle since he'd woken that afternoon, had his concentration uneven and shaky, and he rubbed his temple as the wall collapsed, the memory rising up in his thoughts. </p><p>
  <i>Champagne glasses clinking, a low rumble of voices around him, soft music in the background. A green dress, a bright smile. Dark eyes and a quiet laugh, the scent of jasmine beside him. Dance with me, Granger. A startled look up and a pink flush on her cheeks, small hand slipping into his.</i>
</p><p>Draco leaned over and pulled another bottle from the crate on the floor next to his chair. He tapped it with his wand and it uncorked itself. Holding the bottle by the heel, he waved it through the air. "Dark chocolate and espresso. A finish of cherries."</p><p>He switched his grip to the neck of the bottle and drank straight from it. Closing his eyes, he set a stone block into place in his mind.</p><p>"Your father used to drink like that."</p><p>Draco wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and set the bottle on the desk with a thump. He watched Narcissa approach him, her thick robes bundled around her. His father's thick robes, he realized. She'd taken to wearing them, surrounding herself with the heavy material, her slight frame swallowed up by the black wools and brocades. </p><p>She nudged an empty bottle away from the desk with her foot. "You've always avoided wine, Draco," she said, folding her arms and tucking her hands into her voluminous sleeves. "Is there a particular reason you've decided to empty the cellars tonight?"</p><p>"Yes." Draco lit a cigarette with a snap of his fingers, ignoring Narcissa's wrinkled nose and look of distaste. "But it's nothing you need to worry about."</p><p>The seventeenth-century longcase clock in the corner of the study struck three. Draco glanced at it, then back to the bottle in his hand. "You should be asleep, Mum. Go back to bed."</p><p>"I don't sleep much these days," she said. She came around the side of the desk to lift his chin, waving smoke away and angling his face to the dim light. "And when I'd catch your father drinking in here at three in the morning, it was because he was frightened of something. What has you scared, my dragon?"</p><p>"Mum, I don't—" Draco hid a hiss as her grip tightened on his chin. "It's the Wizengamot, all right? They moved my annual inquiry and I'm suspicious about their reasoning. I'm—I'm concerned. What their tactics may be this year."</p><p>Narcissa dropped her hand. She took the bottle from him and summoned an armless Queen Anne chair to sit beside him. A languid gesture called a glass from the bar tucked behind a low bookcase. She poured some wine for herself and handed the bottle back to him. "Does this have anything to do with the woman you won't mention in my hearing?"</p><p>Draco paused with the mouth of the bottle against his lips. "Mum, I—"</p><p>"Do you think I didn't notice that bruise on your neck before it healed? Or that I don't see the way you've been smiling when you come home at night? There's a woman in your life." She closed her eyes and took a drink, her fingers trembling as she set the glass down. "Tell me about her."</p><p>
  <i>Sitting in the broad window seat in the morning room, head against the wall as rain drums on the glass. Telling her everything that had happened at school, crowing over a Quidditch victory, discussing a mark on an essay. Sharing a laugh over a joke Blaise had told him, asking advice about a gift for Pansy. Watching Narcissa rise from her desk to sit facing him in the window seat, her knees bent up to touch the toes of her slippers to the tips of his boots. Tell me about it, my dragon, she says with a light smile.</i>
</p><p>Draco tipped his head back and blew a smoke ring at the ceiling, the wine bottle abandoned on the desk. Tell his mother about a woman he couldn't mention by name. Difficult, but not impossible. She was lucid at the moment and if he was careful, she could stay that way. </p><p>He picked his words judiciously, focusing hard through the blur of wine. "Our involvement is recent. She's a colleague at the Ministry, very bright. Scarily smart, actually. She went to school with me. Different house, though. She, er. Well, you know my type. Short, a little too short, but I'm starting to like it. Gorgeous eyes. This deep brown color, little gold flecks in it." He closed his eyes, smiling to himself. "She taps her quills on her mouth when she's thinking, so she sometimes has a little bit of ink on her upper lip. And her hair. All these curls and—"</p><p>"Stop." Narcissa's voice was choked. "That's enough."</p><p>Draco sat up and crushed his cigarette out in a brass ashtray stained and tarnished from hundreds of expensive cigars. "Mum? What's wrong? You wanted to know about—"</p><p>"I know who she is," Narcissa whispered. "I know why you haven't said her name. And I know that I'm the reason you can't. That my little incidents are—are." She clutched her glass in both hands and bowed her head over it. A tear dropped from the tip of her nose into her blood red wine. "Are too <em>dangerous</em> for you to speak of her."</p><p>"Mum, no. That's—"</p><p>"If it were any other woman, you'd have told me her name," she said , wiping her cheeks on the rolled cuff of her sleeve. "I know what I'm doing to you, Draco. I know something is wrong with me, but I haven't lost my mind yet. You won't tell me who she is because you're frightened of my reaction. You're frightened of that, and of the Wizengamot."</p><p>"It's nothing you need to worry about." Draco drummed his fingers on the side of the wine bottle, then jerked it off the desk and took a long drink from it. "I have things under control. That's my responsibility, right? Have things under control. Take care of the family. Keep everything from falling apart."</p><p>"And that's why you're drinking like your father. I know damn well you won't touch wine because of him. That you've resorted to it now—You're afraid. You may be an Occlumens but I'm your mother. I know you."</p><p>"What do you think you can do about it, Mum?" Draco rubbed his forehead with the lip of the bottle. "Going to go shout at the Wizengamot and tell them not to touch your little boy? Somehow I think that won't be very effective."</p><p>"As effective as sitting in the dark and drinking—" she looked around the desk, counting the bottles he'd drained. "Three bottles of wine? Halfway through a fourth. And still coherent. I wondered if you'd inherited the Malfoy tolerance for alcohol. Apparently you have. Your grandfather once drank his way through a quarter of a million Galleons and won it all back on one hand of whist."</p><p>He sighed, slouching with the bottle cradled to his chest. "I wasn't going to waste good brandy on this little exercise," he said. He closed his eyes and took a slow breath. "My walls. They need to be strong. And if I can build them when I'm foxed, I can build them when I'm—when I'm worried."</p><p>Narcissa turned in her chair to face him. "Let me examine them. If they can stand up to me, they can stand up to the Ministry."</p><p>He stared at her for a moment, uncertain what she meant, then he drew back in the chair. "Mum, no. I'm not risking that."</p><p>"If you can prevent me from getting through your walls, Draco, you can stop any of those imbeciles. If you can stop <em>me</em> from finding the things you want to hide, you have nothing to fear. Your au—My sis—We know who taught you Occlumency." She drained her wine and slammed the glass down, cracking the crystal. "We both learned from the same teacher."</p><p>Draco set the bottle on the floor, watching her warily. "Mum, what are you talking about? Bel—<em>she</em> taught me." His mouth went dry. Bella's lessons had been painful. Agonizing. She'd never taken the slightest care with him, ripping through his mind and yanking out any memory or thought she pleased. Either Narcissa meant that she and Bella had both learned from the same person—</p><p>Or she had also been trained by Bella.</p><p>Narcissa shot out of her chair, grabbed his face in both hands, and wrenched him around. She tore into his mind without warning, slicing into his thoughts.</p><p>Draco scrabbled at the arms of the chair physically, and scrambled backwards mentally. In his head, Narcissa was a swirl of white petals, each one rimmed with the silver edge of a blade. She spun past his current thoughts, danced around his conscious mind, and aimed straight at his memories. </p><p>
  <i>Standing in the wine cellar, pulling bottles from the racks at random, white red rose, old and older, ignoring dust on his robes and labels crumbling under his fingers. Taking the crate upstairs to his father's study, his study, his home, head of the family, last male of the blood. His duty, his responsibility, his life on the line.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Examining the evidence wall, eyes burning from reading files and reports a dozen times, two dozen times. A chain of a necklace running through his fingers. A woman still unidentified, a killer still running free. A case unsolved, a looming black mark on his record. A failure. Another.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Hearing the crack of a collision, whipping to spot the accident. Players falling. Streaking toward them. Wind screaming past his ears. Diving, legs tight, hands loose. Save her, save her. No more deaths, no deaths, never watch another person die.</i>
</p><p>Draco hauled his mental walls into place, slamming rows of stones across his thoughts, raising wall after wall as quick as lightning, a maze forming in his mind to distract and disorient the invader. </p><p>Narcissa knew his tricks. She raced through his thoughts, finding cracks in the stones and gaps between them, wedging them open and grabbing memories out of his mind.</p><p>
  <i>Curled into one corner of a rickety bed, hands pressed over his ears. Howling outside the thick stone walls, howling inside. Trembling fingers, freezing hands, aching joints. Lines scratched into stone with a flake of rusted metal, one hundred, two hundred, three hundred and sixty five lines. Scratching the hint of a flame around the last line, leaning forward and shaking with shame, closing his eyes and exhaling, making a wish.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Look here, McGreavy. New blood. Look at him, ain't he a pretty one. That won't last, Hutchinson. Not here. He'll go like the rest of us. Tenner he cracks in the first year. Twenty, six months. Lifting his head, staring them down, striped uniform sleeve dropping to his elbow as he stretched. Hissing from across the table, twisted broken-toothed grins facing him. Death Eater, eh. Your lord's not going to save you now.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Under guard in a small room, listening to the wireless outside the barred door. Trials begin tomorrow, Death Eaters in custody. All expected to be convicted, notorious Dark wizards not killed at Battle of Hogwarts include all members of Malfoy family. Breaking news, Harry Potter to speak on behalf of Narcissa Malfoy, remains silent on Draco and Lucius.</i>
</p><p>Draco fought against the keen edge of Narcissa's invasion into his memories. She cut at his walls, slapping away his efforts to protect his thoughts, whipped through the maze he'd built, and drove into the center of his mind.</p><p>
  <i>Standing outside the restaurant, heart pounding as she approaches. Let's give them what they came for. Bending down, a delicate kiss turning heavy. Hands on her waist, picking her up, holding her tight, kissing until he can't breathe. Nipping at her mouth, whispering to her. Do you want me, Her—</i>
</p><p>"No." Draco shoved a wall in front of the memory, blocking Narcissa from grasping it.</p><p>
  <i>Pressing back into a leather chair, fingers sliding up soft thighs. Head back, eyes closed, her teeth in his neck. Chest aching with the struggle to hold back, to stop himself, willpower fading with every brush of her lips on his throat. Grabbing her hips, pulling her closer, stifling the urge to haul her full against him and let her ride. The rules, Her—</i>
</p><p>"Get out." Draco slammed another wall into place, forcing the whirl of sharp petals to retreat.</p><p>
  <i>Flames crackling and dancing in the firepit, a pamphlet shoved aside on the bench. Arms wrapped around his back, dark hair tangled around his fingers. Groaning as she writhes underneath him, grinding against her thigh. Desperate want to have her, claim her, mark her as his. Even more desperate need to believe she wants as much as he does. Please, harder, she's begging, and his groan is muffled in her throat, words trapped in her skin. I want you, Her—</i>
</p><p>"<em>Out</em>!" Draco shielded the heart of his memories with smoke and clouds, built walls of lightning-laced stone, and threw Narcissa out of his mind. </p><p>She narrowed her eyes. "Well," she said after a moment. "I can see why you wouldn't want me to access <em>those</em> memories."</p><p>He rubbed his neck and let out a shaking breath. "No," he said. "I don't want my mother to see that." He loosened his hands from the arms of the chair, fingers stiff and cold.</p><p>"Her face," Narcissa said. "You blocked her name, but I could still see her face." She ran her fingers through her hair, shook her hands out, and stood. "Not good enough, my dragon."</p><p>Draco swallowed hard. His throat hurt, the familiar ache of forcing himself not to make a sound. </p><p>
  <i>Don't shout, don't scream, don't be weak, nephew. Weak as your father, aren't you? Are you a coward, too? You will need this skill and if I have to beat it into you, I will. What are you crying about, anyway?</i>
</p><p>Draco held position as Narcissa set her hands on his cheeks. He took a deep breath and met her eyes. </p><p>Narcissa's blades slashed through his mind.</p>
<hr/><p>Draco didn't lift his head when the door of the waiting room opened. He stared at the tiles of the floor, all of his focus on maintaining his control. </p><p>"Malfoy," Harry said. "They're ready for you."</p><p>Draco didn't move. He knotted his hands together, elbows on his knees, and constructed another set of walls in his mind. For days, he'd been building them, feeling them fall under Narcissa's siege, and rebuilding. Hours of practice, a few sleepless nights, and he'd finally been able to keep her out of his thoughts, locking her out no matter how hard she tried.</p><p>And she'd tried. She'd done almost as much as Bellatrix had ever done to him, slicing through his thoughts until <em>she</em> was weeping from the hurt she inflicted. But he'd kept her out. Kept her from seeing even the hint of Hermione's eyes in his memories, kept her from hearing the way Hermione said his name, kept her from feeling the warmth of Hermione's hand curled in his.</p><p>Their last night of training, Narcissa had attacked him with a ferocity that stunned him. She'd twisted herself into a spear and stabbed into his thoughts. She nearly found the deeper, erotic memories of Hermione in his mind, but Draco fought hard, shoving her out with enough force to stagger her into a chair. He'd kept her out through everything she threw at him, despite the pain of her incursions. He was confident he could block her from any thought in his head.</p><p>He was less confident of what would happen today. Even with the tactics Narcissa had taken to enter his thoughts, she'd still held back, unwilling to be outright cruel to her son. The Wizengamot would be willing. If they decided to examine his thoughts, whoever they brought in would be more than willing to demolish his defenses, no matter what it took.</p><p>"Malfoy," Harry said again. "Don't make them wait."</p><p>"It doesn't matter," Draco said, his throat aching from the hours he'd spent forcing himself silent as Narcissa probed his memories. He'd been able to see how much it was costing her to test his mental strength and he'd been determined not to make a sound to dissuade her. If she'd heard how much she was hurting him, she wouldn't forgive herself, and as much as it hurt, he needed the testing. "They can't do much more to me for taking my time than they're already going to do. I hate this, Potter. I fucking hate this."</p><p>"It's once a year, down from twice during your probation. It's part of your release agreement, Malfoy. You were originally sentenced to—"</p><p>"Ten years. I'd be getting out of Azkaban this summer if I hadn't agreed to it. I <em>know</em>. I still hate it." Draco lifted his head, his thumb rubbing over his rings. "Potter." </p><p>His words caught and he cleared his throat, looking up after a moment with a shaky exhale. "Potter, don't—I can't—" His voice softened to a whisper. "Don't make me do this, Harry."</p><p>Harry flinched and stepped back to fidget with one of the buttons on his official uniform, avoiding Draco's eyes. "It's above my head, Malfoy. I'm sorry."</p><p>Draco nodded. He hadn't expected any other answer. He tugged his sleeves up to expose his wrists and stood with his arms extended.</p><p>
  <i>Draco Lucius Malfoy, you have been found guilty of crimes against—the use of the Imperius and the Cruciatus and repeated attempts at murd—Your age is not a mitigat—Restrain him for escort to Azka— Words blurring together, the sentencing no more than sound battering at his ears. Shackles around his wrists, chains linking his arms. Cold metal on his skin, the chill sinking into his blood and freezing his fingers.</i>
</p><p>Harry drew his wand, then stopped and shook his head. "No. I'll escort you in, but fuck if I'll put you in cuffs for them. Come on."</p><p>He jerked the door open and stepped into the hall, his Auror's badge gleaming in the torchlight. Draco took a deep breath and followed him out, waiting to be led to the courtroom, but Harry stood shoulder to shoulder with him. </p><p>Draco gave a stiff, silent nod to acknowledge the action. It would cost Harry some ground in MLE and they both knew it, but Draco appreciated it more than he would ever say.</p><p>They walked past the door Draco remembered from his trial, deeper into the Ministry dungeons. Draco's shoulders tensed each time they passed another door; the back of his neck tightened each time another torch lit further down the corridor. They were spiraling into the furthest dungeons, to the smallest and oldest courtrooms. The full Wizengamot hadn't met for his inquiries, not since his original trial, but the sense that a smaller council than usual had been called for this one had him more nervous than if he was facing them all. At least with the complete Wizengamot in attendance, or with a larger committee, the odds of a handful of sympathetic voices was higher.</p><p>Unlikely, this time.</p><p>When Harry stopped, Draco stared at the door in front of him. He flexed his cold fingers at his sides, then lifted his chin and steadied his expression.</p><p>"I'll be watching," Harry said.</p><p>"This could take hours."</p><p>"I know. I'll be watching." Harry narrowed his eyes, looking at the door. "And I'll make sure they <em>know</em> I'm watching."</p><p>Draco nodded. The door swung open and he stepped through, ducking his head to clear the lintel. His nose wrinkled against the smell of the courtroom—dark varnish on the benches and balustrades, mold in the crumbling grout of the tiles, old blood and dried sweat on the chair in the center of the room. </p><p>"Malfoy. You're late."</p><p>Draco didn't answer. He walked to the chair and turned to face the panel, hands behind his back. He curled his fingers around his wrist as he stared at the seven people facing him. None of them had been at his original trial. He narrowed his eyes at the woman in the center of the group. "Madame McGowan," he said, reading the name off the plate in front of her. "I'll assume it was your great-grandson I threw out of the training program for his attitude?"</p><p>She gave him a sharp glare. "He told me about <em>your</em> attitude. I see he was correct." Sniffing, she spoke to the guards at the door. "Dark wizards are supposed to be restrained."</p><p>Harry, standing at the edge of the courtroom out of sight, stepped forward. People shifted on their benches, shuffling papers and clearing throats without looking at him. Harry adjusted his badge and stood up straight. "Head Auror Harry Potter," he said, identifying himself in a clear voice and watching the Court Scribe take down his name. "This is an annual examination, not a trial. Auror Malfoy isn't accused of anything. I chose not to put him in restraints. And I'll be observing until this is over."</p><p>A small wizard, grey hair poking out from under his hat, bobbed his head. "Of course, Head Auror Potter." He sat up and leaned forward, peering around at McGowan. "You don't have a problem with the Chosen One keeping an eye on things, do you, Agatha?"</p><p>She huffed and rocked on the bench. "Head Auror Potter," she said, snapping each consonant, "may observe in <em>silence</em>. Without interfering. I have full authority over these proceedings."</p><p>Harry nodded and went to the benches at the back of the courtroom, taking a seat that faced the Wizengamot members. A few of them watched him, eyes widening, and exchanged glances with each other. Muffled coughs and hushed voices filled the room before McGowan rapped her knuckles on the railing.</p><p>"Malfoy, Draco Lucius," McGowan said. She read from a parchment in front of her. "In accordance with the sentencing agreement of 4 June, 1998, you are subject to inquiry at the discretion of the Wizengamot. Your wand will be examined for use of Dark magic and you may be questioned under Veritaserum."</p><p>"Veritaserum is useless on a Death Eater," said a different wizard. "They were all trained to resist it."</p><p>"As are Aurors," the grey-haired wizard said. "Malfoy is an Auror. And from all reports, he's an excellent one. I'm certain Veritaserum is unnecessary." He turned his gaze on Draco. "Auror Malfoy will answer honestly."</p><p>"I will," Draco said. The grey-haired wizard seemed to have some sympathy for him, and Draco addressed his comments to that wizard directly. "I have no intention of lying. I've gone through this for ten years. I've given the same answers for ten years. Nothing has changed."</p><p>McGowan huffed again. "Take his wand."</p><p>All of the witches and wizards looked at each other but no one moved. Draco hid a sigh, shook his head once, and walked up to the balustrade. Jaw tight, he drew his wand and placed it on the railing in front of the grey-haired wizard.  </p><p>"Alvis Scrope, Warlock," the wizard said to the Court Scribe. "Examining the wand of Draco Lucius Malfoy."</p><p>Draco took a step back, watching as Scrope cast several charms, weighing his wand and recording its statistics. Hawthorn, unicorn hair, ten inches. Owned in succession by Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, and Draco Malfoy. </p><p>
  <i>A quick meeting at the Manor, a few weeks after his release from Azkaban. Malfoy, here. This belongs to you. A startled glance and a long moment before he reached out to reclaim his wand. Would have thought you'd have broken it. It's yours and you deserve to have it back. Looking down, running his fingers along the wood. It didn't—didn't change allegiance? No. It worked for me but it's still yours. Waiting until he is alone, standing in the Manor's Great Hall, casting his first spell since he'd been sentenced, filling the hall with light. Lumos Maxima, Lumos Maxima, Lumos Maxima. Blinding himself with all the light he'd been without for two years.</i>
</p><p>Scrope finished the weighing and cleared his throat. "We will proceed to the examination of spells," he said. "Auror Malfoy, please take your seat."</p><p>Draco didn't want to walk away from his wand, but this part could take some time, if they decided to go through everything he'd cast with it since the inquiry the previous June. There was a reason he'd taken to casting small charms and simple spells wandlessly. Not to be a better wizard, but to make this part of the process go faster.</p><p>He backed up and sat, both hands on the arms of the chair. A rattling sound echoed in the room and Draco jerked in surprise, looking down.</p><p>Chains held him to the chair. Thick iron shackles locked around his wrists, a matching pair around his ankles. He couldn't take a full breath. A wide leather strap circled his chest and pinned him to the chair.</p><p>Scrope shot to his feet and shouted a protest. Behind Draco, Harry did the same.</p><p>McGowan smirked. "As I said, Dark wizards are to be restrained. Malfoy has never been removed from the list of known Dark wizards and the terms of his release are still in effect. Until this inquiry is concluded, he will remain in chains. And you, Head Auror Potter, will remain silent or be removed. You might have been the Chosen One, once upon a time, but this is <em>my</em> courtroom."</p><p>She settled back on the bench and brushed at the front of her robes. "Scrope may continue with his examination of Malfoy's wand. Alert us if you find anything, Alvis, but I suspect this one would use a secondary wand if he wanted to cast anything Dark. I will proceed to the questioning. Malfoy," she said with a sneer, "you were made a Death Eater on what date?"</p><p>He stared at her. He'd never answered that question, not once. Not the full truth. "Early July, 1996. I don't know the exact date."</p><p>"You are known throughout the Ministry for having a near-perfect memory and yet you claim you can't recall the day you volunteered to join Voldemort's forces?"</p><p>Draco flinched, unable to stop himself, when the name was spoken. He shut his eyes, fingers clenching on the arms of the chair. "I didn't volunteer. I was forced. My father had been arrested and the Dark Lord took me as punishment for his failures."</p><p>"Surely you could have fought? Refused?"</p><p>Draco ground his teeth. "As I have said repeatedly, if I had refused, I would have died. He would have murdered my mother in front of me and had me killed as well."</p><p>"So you did choose to join."</p><p>"Over watching my mother die? Or being executed? Yes."</p><p>"And what date was that again?"</p><p>
  <i>Sleepless hours, pacing the halls of the Manor, roaming from wing to wing, trying to avoid his mother's sobbing. Finding her in the garden, her robes wet with night dew, her hands scratched and bleeding, mangled flowers at her feet. Sitting beside her on the bench and taking her hand, letting her lean against him.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>It's our anniversary tomorrow, she whispers. No, today. It's today. Twenty years, my dragon. And they won't even let me see him. I can't go to him.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Sighing and staring down at the signet ring on his hand, the silver gleam of it in the light of the full moon. Without his father, the responsibility for the family falls on him. He has a duty and he must obey, no matter his age, no matter the burden. Come on, Mum. You should try to get some sleep. It's only a couple of hours until dawn. We'll think of something to remember your anniversary later, all ri—</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Cracks of Apparition, shouts in the air, shrieks of mad laughter. An arm around his neck, dragging him over the back of the bench, stone tearing his shirt and ripping at his skin. Fighting the hands on his limbs, struggling against the arm on his throat, choking for breath. Mother's terrified screams. Red eyes, a high cold laugh. Black smoke and flames in his blood.</i>
</p><p>"I don't remember," Draco said, swallowing to shove down a pain in his throat. "Most of the weeks following my father's arrest are confusing. The dates run together. Early July. That's all I can tell you."</p><p>McGowan sniffed and glanced to the end of the bench, where a small blue cloud surrounded Scrope, still weighing the spells on Draco's wand. She looked back to him, smiling tightly, and brought a different parchment to the top of the stack.</p><p>"You claim to have been dating Hermione Granger for over a year. What did you get her for Christmas?"</p><p>Draco clenched his jaw, watching her. This was the game, then. Ask the questions at random, try to throw him off balance by ricocheting around his history. Try to trip him up and catch him in a lie. Unfortunately for her, he had an answer for this. A true one.</p><p>
  <i>Malfoy, I wasn't expecting— Couldn't get something for Parks and Potter without getting something for you, now could I? Hardly polite, Granger. Watching her take the red paper off in slow increments, folding each piece away. Pansy laughing in the background, it's a book, of course it's a book. Dark brown eyes looking up at him, shock clear in them. I can't take this. I can't possibly take—this is a Folio, Malfoy! It's almost four hundred years old! Take it, Granger. We have two of them.</i>
</p><p>He drummed his fingers on the chair. "She's named after a character in one of Shakespeare's plays. I gave her a copy of the Second Folio."</p><p>One of the witches at the far end of the bench choked and spluttered. "That is an incredibly expensive gift, Auror Malfoy."</p><p>Draco gave her a bland look. "I have a lot of money."</p><p>"And when exactly did you start dating Miss Granger?" McGowan asked, with a sharp glare at the other witch.</p><p>"After Potter's wedding," Draco said. He skimmed through the backstory he'd created with Hermione. Sex after Kjeldsen's wedding, a few private weekends here and there, a rejection and then a second attempt at Harry's wedding where she'd said yes to dating him. "I asked her out at the reception and we've been together since."</p><p>"Why would you have picked that particular date?"</p><p>
  <i>Oh, I didn't realize how late it was! I have an early meeting. Thank you for the dance, Malfoy, walk me back to the table? Arm threaded through his, her eyes bright with champagne and her cheeks flushed with dancing. Sitting in his place and glancing away to find a waiter as she says her farewells to everyone else at the table. Looking up with surprise when she circles back to him. Breath catching, head turning as she slings her arm around his neck. Tipsy, giddy with drink, she's laughing, and her lips move across his mouth. She's gone through the crowd before he can blink and he's touching his lips where he can still feel the pressure.</i>
</p><p>"It seemed like a good idea," Draco said. "We were both there as attendants to Potter and Parkinson, we were dancing together, and—" He didn't turn to look over his shoulder at Harry, even though he could almost feel those green eyes staring at the back of his head. "And she kissed me." She'd been half-drunk on champagne and he doubted she remembered doing it. He'd had to stop himself from going after her, catching her up and kissing her again. </p><p>"A good idea. Because you have so many of those," McGowan said with a snort. "And what date were you Marked again?"</p><p>"Early July." Draco wondered how many times McGowan would try asking that, hoping to distract him into giving a more specific answer.</p><p>"How often has Miss Granger been to your home?"</p><p>Draco blinked. "I don't see what—"</p><p>"If you're dating her, surely you've taken her home." McGowan smirked at him. "To meet your mother, perhaps? If you were serious about her, you would, I assume."</p><p>Draco pressed his lips together, then glanced away. "No," he said in a low, tight voice. In normal circumstances, he would have brought her to the Manor, had dinner with his mother, introduced Hermione as the woman he was courting. He wished 'normal' could apply. He wasn't <em>actually</em> courting Hermione and he couldn't possibly present her to Narcissa, even if he was. He hid a frustrated sigh. "No, I haven't taken her home. Our relationship hasn't reached that point."</p><p>McGowan wrinkled her nose and shuffled parchments. "When was the last time you saw your father?"</p><p>"June of 2000. When I was released from Azkaban." </p><p>
  <i>One last glance at the prison before stepping onto the boat. A pale blond head at a narrow window, a sneer crossing the distance between them. Turning away, taking his seat, swallowing down a lump in his throat. Chin lifted. Show no weakness, boy.</i>
</p><p>"Why have you hidden your relationship with Granger?" a round-faced witch asked from the middle of the group. "Over a year together and you were only discovered recently? Seems unlikely."</p><p>"We've kept it quiet because we didn't want a lot of inappropriate questions." He lifted a brow. "Or nosy reporters stalking us on dates. And as I'm sure you're aware, the moment we went public, we were followed and photographed."</p><p>"Valid point," Scrope said through the blue cloud surrounding him. "That was a rather salacious article."</p><p>"Which one?" the round-faced witch asked, leaning forward. "There was another in this month's issue. That photo was even worse. At the Quidditch match? They were practically mauling each other. Skeeter's hinting that she'll turn it into a series."</p><p>"How do you even fit?" The wizard next to her snorted. "That's what I want to know. You're up here, and she's down there," he said, stacking his hands a couple of feet apart. "I'm guessing she's on top or you'll crush her."</p><p>Draco's eyes narrowed. If they were attempting to make him angry enough to pay less attention to his answers, they were doing rather well at it. On his own behalf, he wouldn't care, but he felt his temper rising at the questions involving Hermione. His voice dropped into a growl. "Are you <em>really</em> asking what position I use to fuck my girlfriend?"</p><p>"These questions are out of bounds," Harry shouted from his seat. "Hermione is not part of this inquiry. Restrict yourself to questions for Malfoy."</p><p>"Restrict yourself to <em>silence</em>, Potter. You won't be warned again." McGowan glared past Draco at the rear of the courtroom before turning her attention to Scrope as the blue cloud faded around him. "Find anything, Alvis? Dark magic?"</p><p>Scrope shook his head. "Nothing unusual for an Auror. Two spells that could be questionable, but they're listed in debriefs. He filed report 2864-18, code D5 for both incidents. Auror Malfoy maintains a strict audit trail for all spells cast in the line of duty. Well done," he said to Draco.</p><p>McGowan looked disappointed for a moment, then sniffed. "Returning to the inquiry. Malfoy. As a Death Eater, you were ordered to assassinate Albus Dumbledore. How were you expected to succeed?"</p><p>"I wasn't." Draco took a slow breath, fingers curling around the chair arms. "I wasn't expected to succeed. I was expected to fail."</p><p>"And fail you did. You didn't manage to kill Dumbledore. You've confessed to use of the Imperius and the Cruciatus. I find it difficult to believe that you avoided the third Unforgivable. <em>Have</em> you managed to commit murder, on top of your other crimes?"</p><p>"No," Draco said through his teeth. "I've never killed anyone."</p><p>"So if it would be necessary for you to kill in the pursuit of your duties as an Auror, you would fail at that as well?" </p><p>Draco held on to his temper with difficulty, doing his best to lock up the anger behind walls in his mind. McGowan was baiting him and he could see it. What he couldn't see was her reason. </p><p>She wanted him angry and he didn't know why, unless she was intending to 'prove' that he was too volatile or too incompetent to belong in the Auror Corps. That would be a hard argument, considering some of the wizards and witches who had served in the past. "I was <em>sixteen</em>," Draco snapped. "The Dark Lord sent me on a suicide mission to punish my father. If I managed to kill Dumbledore, then I wouldn't be executed. If I died in the attempt? Not a problem for my Lord."</p><p>McGowan sneered at him over a parchment. "You still refer to him by a title. You expect us to believe that you have no connection to that life any longer when you still treat Voldemort with respect?"</p><p>Draco flinched again, closing his eyes as he ducked his head. The shackles around his wrists tightened when he shifted in the chair. He opened his eyes and tried to take a long breath but the strap across his chest kept him from inhaling too deeply.</p><p>"Oh, Agatha," Scrope said, leaning forward. "Let's admit that you only feel brave enough to use his name because he's dead. Auror Malfoy can't be blamed for using the title he was ordered to use, as he's explained several times before. You <em>have</em> read the transcripts of his trial and previous inquiries, yes?"</p><p>McGowan smiled, a deep and unpleasant smile that twisted her face into a grimace. "I have. And I note that there is one very interesting piece of information missing, other than the date you chose to join the Death Eaters. You have never detailed the process."</p><p>Draco stiffened, eyes widening. He slammed a wall up in his mind, stone blocks crashing together. "Classified," he said.</p><p>"There is no such thing for this inquiry," McGowan said. "You are required to give full and complete answers to any question—"</p><p>"<em>Classified</em>," Draco said. He dug his nails into the arms of the chair, the shackles rattling as he moved. "By order of the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. I will <em>not</em> speak on that topic."</p><p>McGowan bared her teeth. "Thought you'd say that. Guard, fetch Unspeakable Prier. She'll get it out of his head."</p><p>"No!" Harry yelled from the rear of the courtroom. Draco heard him stomping onto the floor. "As Head Auror, I—"</p><p>McGowan shot to her feet. "You were warned to remain silent and you have <em>no</em> authority here, Potter. Remove him!"</p><p>Harry shouted and struggled as he was hauled out of the room. Draco caught a few words. <i>Illegal, against procedure, not right, you can't—Malfoy, hold on, fight, we're coming for—</i></p><p>Draco fought against the chains, the iron shackles cutting into his wrists and ankles. The leather strap tightened and crushed him against the back of the chair; a stiff leather collar snapped around his neck and shoved his head upright. He swallowed and the collar pressed on his throat, forcing him to take shallow breaths. </p><p>He built walls as fast as he could, blocking off everything from that day. He'd expected them to go after recent memories of Hermione, questioning the truth of his relationship with her, or to go through the past few years, looking for any evidence that he was returning to Dark magics and companions. </p><p>But this was what McGowan was truly after, it seemed. He was the only Death Eater who could be questioned on this matter, the only person Marked out of an entire generation. He'd asked over the two years he'd served the Dark Lord, and come to realize that he was the one man alive who could remember. Everyone of his father's generation was dead or had forgotten over the decades.</p><p>Draco remembered. </p><p>The memories of that day, of the day he was Marked, had been witnessed at his trial by four of the highest ranking wizards in the country: the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, the head of Magical Law Enforcement, the British representative to the International Confederation of Wizards, and the Minister for Magic. He had given testimony to the barest details of it, pretending he had as little memory as any other Death Eater. </p><p>Even the little he'd spoken had been enough for the Chief Warlock to declare the information Unthinkable, a secret classification for the most dangerous knowledge. All four of the wizards present had taken an Unbreakable Vow to never reveal what Draco had told them.</p><p>It was priceless information to any number of people, on both sides of the war. He'd been offered millions for it and refused every time. The magic created by the Dark Lord to Mark his Death Eaters was like nothing anyone had ever seen before, and the knowledge had died with him.</p><p>As far as most people knew. </p><p>Draco had the full ceremony, the complete spell, every gesture and word of it deep in his perfect memory.</p><p>McGowan's order was unsanctioned, but with Harry dragged out of the courtroom, there was no one there to stop her. Even Scrope, the one wizard who'd shown him sympathy, was slumped on the bench and looking away in resignation.</p><p>Draco heard slow footsteps behind him, felt thick fingers pressing against his temples. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the walls in his mind.</p><p>"If you fight," a female voice whispered at his ear, "this will hurt." She chuckled, her breath stinking of grease and buttered toast. "It will hurt anyway, Death Eater."</p><p>It wasn't Legilimency. It was something else, something more vile. Unspeakable Prier reached into his head and struck at his barriers. Where Narcissa had been petals edged in blades, Prier was spikes and chains, smashing through Draco's mind with brutal force. Prier crushed the first of his walls and hauled a memory forward.</p><p>
  <i>I haven’t got any options! I’ve got to do it! He’ll kill me! He’ll kill my whole family! You don’t know what I’m capable of, you don’t know what I’ve done! Hand shaking, wand trembling. Screaming inside his mind, don't make me do this stop me stop me stop</i>
</p><p>Prier flung that memory down and dug in further.</p><p>
  <i>Tell anyone and there will be retribution. Borgin's face twisting in fear. Don’t forget to keep that one safe, I’ll need it. Tugging his sleeve down, lifting his chin. They'll get in, they'll get in, that's how to do it, if I can finish the repairs, it's impossible but I have to, I have to do it or else</i>
</p><p>Prier's fingers tensed on Draco's temples, the pressure alone making him gasp. He bucked against the chair, fighting to shake Prier loose, but the restraints tightened, the iron shackles biting at his joints. He choked, trying to breathe around the collar. </p><p>"Faster, you idiot," McGowan snapped. She stormed down from the benches to hiss at Prier, her voice so low Draco barely heard her over the pounding in his head. "You're in charge of the Brain Room, surely you can find one memory in this serpent's thoughts. You know our agreement. Do you want your cut or not?"</p><p>Prier whirled in Draco's mind, spikes slamming through his walls, chains ripping down the mental stones. She grabbed his memories and threw them aside, whirling through the maze of barriers. </p><p>Draco called on all of his training, from Bellatrix and Narcissa alike. He fought frantically, new walls built almost as fast as Prier could tear them down. He retreated into his mind, pulling other memories up as sacrifices to distract and delay Prier. </p><p>
  <i>Aunt Bellatrix has been teaching you Occlumency, I see.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Murder! Murder in the bathroom! Murder!</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Dinner, Nagini.</i>
</p><p>"He's blocking something, Madame McGowan," Prier said. "It's deep."</p><p>"Then <em>retrieve</em> it," McGowan said. "By any means."</p><p>Prier lashed at Draco's mind, a vortex of spikes in his thoughts. She grabbed the memory of fleeing from the castle after Dumbledore's death and shredded it to pieces. Draco seized in the chair, a scream ringing off the black tiles of the courtroom, as the memory disintegrated.</p><p><i>Cracks of Apparition, shouts in the air, shrieks of mad laughter. An arm around his neck, dragging him over the back of the bench, stone tearing his shirt and ripping at his skin. Fighting the hands on his limbs, struggling against the arm on his throat, choking for breath. Mother's terrified screams.</i> </p><p>
  <i>Black smoke, lightning in his veins, a clearing deep in the woods. Wet grass, rotted wood, the smell of decay and death. A half-consumed stag, proud antlers broken and scattered under a tree. Torches bursting into life with green flames around the clearing. A hooded figure stepping out of the shadows to circle behind him.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Red eyes, a high cold laugh. A sharp blow to his legs, driving him to his knees in a patch of slick earth. He smells steel and oakmoss. Bella, it's Bella behind him, grabbing his hair, yanking his head up, holding him with long nails dug into his throat. Bony fingers around his wrist, pulling his left arm forward. Your father has failed me, boy. Let us see if you're as useless as he has been. Look at me, Draco.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Shivering, terrified, Bella's breath hot against his ear and stirring his hair as she hisses warnings to him. Take this honor or I will kill you myself, nephew. He's biting at the inside of his mouth, struggling to dodge the wand held in skeletal fingers. Slicing his cheek to bloody ribbons as the Dark Lord starts the spell.</i>
</p><p>Draco called up smoke and clouds in his thoughts, surrounded them with lightning-marked walls, a maelstrom in the center of his mind. Spinning at the edges were flashes of himself, his mother, his father; flashes of Hermione, Pansy, Blaise, Harry. Prier grabbed each of those memories and tossed them aside, fighting through the storm of Draco's mental defenses.</p><p>
  <i>Burning. He's burning, his arm is burning, green flames burning through his skin, through the muscle, down to bone. A dull white glimmer of bone in his arm. He's fighting Bella's arms holding him in place, flailing to escape and run, but the green flames sear into his flesh.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He screams until his throat shreds, until he chokes on blood. Blood flecking his lips, blood dripping from his nose, and he's burning. Black smoke spinning around his arm, forming the skull and snake in his flesh, and he speaks through his screams, reciting a twisted oath, taking a fatal vow that tears at his voice. Tears drip down his face, off his chin, sizzling out in the flames still burning in his arm. Lord and master, I will obey. I swear by flame and I vow by blood that I submit, my life is forfeit—</i>
</p><p>Draco cut off the rest of the ceremony with a cry that broke in his throat. The words of the oath, the ritual itself, the spell that Marked him and made him one of the Dark Lord's servants—he locked it deep into his mind. He spun his thought-storm in a whirl, pulling the smoke and clouds tight around his memory, fighting Prier with lightning and flames, driving the Unspeakable back. Draco hauled a different memory in front of Prier, one that was deliberately tattered at the edges, faded and torn. He let Prier grab it, rip it through the smallest hole in his walls.</p><p>
  <i>I don't know her. It could be them, I don't know. The fight, the escape, blood on his face from the destroyed chandelier. Cold in the air, a roar of fury as his master appears. Was it them, was it her, Draco? I don't know. I don't know, my Lord. You have failed, you have all failed me, Crucio!</i>
</p><p>Draco heard a booming noise, somewhere faint. Prier tightened her grip on his head, hauling the memory to the top of his mind.</p><p>
  <i>Crucio. My Lord, no! Crucio! Was it the Granger girl? Crucio! Master, please, please, no. I don't know, I don't know. Crucio! You let her escape! Red eyes glittering with fury, white face twisted in rage. Crucio!</i>
</p><p>"Nearly have it," Prier said with glee. "I can sense pain. Intense pain. This must be the right memory. I knew he couldn't hide it forever. A few more minutes, and I'll have the words of the spell."</p><p>The door of the courtroom blew inward, pieces of wood exploding over the heads of the gathered wizards and witches. Tiles shattered with the impact. Prier staggered backward; McGowan jumped away. </p><p>Draco sagged in the chair as Harry stalked in beside the head of Magical Law Enforcement, Vires Mandamus. Cotterill and Choudhury followed with the full complement of Auror Squad Seven, all with wands drawn and badges flaring white.</p><p>They spread out, covering the six seated interrogators. Harry and Mandamus flanked Draco, quick spells cast to halt Prier and McGowan in their flight. The two women were hauled back, silenced and bound. "Get him the fuck out of here," Mandamus barked at Harry. "I'll deal with this."</p><p>Draco's vision greyed out and blurred, his focus turned inward. Green—red—eyes stared at him, warm—bone-cold—hands touched his arms. He shuddered as fingers brushed over his Mark, eyes squeezing shut against the pain.</p><p>Harry hissed, a rush of Parseltongue that made Draco convulse in a desperate attempt at flight. The chains tightened again, crushing him against the chair.</p><p>"Malfoy," Harry said. "It's me, it's Harry." He tapped his wand to the iron shackles and they dissolved into rust. The leather strap around Draco's chest vanished; the choking collar around his throat dissolved into a puff of smoke. </p><p>"Malfoy," Harry said again, both hands on Draco's shoulders. "Are you with me?"</p><p>Draco opened his eyes. "Potter?" he whispered. "Potter, I didn't—I didn't tell him. I didn't tell him it was you. My Lord, I don't know her." His head fell forward, voice harsh in his bruised throat. All of his thoughts ran together, memories swirled into one. He saw Harry and the Dark Lord both at once, watched Bella carve a word into Hermione's arm as he felt his master brand a skull into his. "I will—I will. Obey. I don't know her. I don't—I will submit."</p><p>"What in the—" Cursing under his breath, Harry helped Draco to his feet. "What hell did they put you through this time?"</p><p>Draco clutched at Harry's shoulder, legs trembling. He stumbled across the tiles of the courtroom, watching moonlight in front of him and smelling decayed, rotten wood around him. Black robes moved and dark laughs echoed in his ears. </p><p>"Where—where?" He clung to Harry's uniform, fingers shaking. "Going?"</p><p>"It's over, Malfoy. Come on, try to walk. We're leaving." </p><p>"Take home. Need to—need. Go home. You don't—don't have to—" Draco tried to push away from Harry and staggered into one of the benches. A flare of red light came from behind them and Draco slammed his back against the wall, both hands up to shield his face. "My Lord, please," he babbled. "I won't fail, I won't. I can do this, I <em>won't</em> fail you. Let me go, please."</p><p>"Malfoy, it's me. It's Harry. Your boss. Shit, your <em>friend</em>." Harry grabbed Draco's wrists, pulling his hands from his face.</p><p>Draco jerked away, eyes wide. "Home. <em>Home</em>. I need to—"</p><p>"You're not going back to the Manor, Malfoy. Not in this condition." Cotterill rushed up with Draco's wand and Harry shoved it into a pocket of his uniform jacket, thanking her briefly before turning back to Draco. He dragged Draco's arm over his shoulders and held him up. "I'm getting you out of here."</p><p>"Don't care. You don't have—Death." Draco choked on a muffled, bitter laugh. "Death Eater, who cares what—Let him die. Let me go. I want to d—still want."</p><p>"You can't be left alone like this, Malfoy." Harry adjusted Draco's arm, balancing his weight, and patted him on the back. "I won't let you take this all on yourself, by yourself. Not this time. I'm taking you to—" </p><p>Draco grabbed Harry's collar. He struggled with his broken thoughts, fighting for one image. </p><p>One person. </p><p>"Hermione." Draco reeled Harry in, voice shaking as much as his hands. "Take me. To Hermione."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Pansy and Hermione had just sat down on a bench outside a shop in Diagon Alley when the silver stag burst into life in front of them. Antlers high, nostrils flared, it looked down at them. "Come home," it said in Harry's voice, taut with some emotion Hermione couldn't identify. "Come home <em>now</em>. He needs you."</p><p>Hermione and Pansy exchanged quick, startled looks, then bolted up from the bench. Pansy grabbed shopping bags; Hermione grabbed her stack of books. They spun in place at the same moment, both landing in the back garden of the townhouse. They rushed through the kitchen together, bags and books tossed onto the table, and down the hall into the front room.</p><p>Harry had both hands on Draco's shoulders, holding him into his oversized chair. Draco's eyes were closed and his face was white. Not pale as he usually was, but <em>white</em>. His hair was disheveled; his hands were visibly shaking. </p><p>Harry looked over his shoulder and the look of relief that crossed his face was almost frightening. "Thank fuck, you're here."</p><p>He turned back to Draco. "Malfoy! She's here. She's here, dammit!"</p><p>Draco opened his eyes.</p><p>Hermione wasn't sure if she or Pansy made the horrified gasp. Draco's pupils were blown entirely, his eyes black without even a ring of grey.  Hermione watched him look around without seeing any of them. "My Lord," he mumbled. "I failed you. I didn't know it was her."</p><p>"Malfoy," Harry said again. "She's—would you get over here?" He reached back and grabbed Hermione's arm, yanking her by the wrist to stand in front of Draco.</p><p>"Me?" she said. When Harry had said 'she's here', she had assumed he meant Pansy. Draco's oldest friend, the person who knew him best. "What's going—"</p><p>Draco's head snapped up at her voice. He moved faster than Hermione could react, lunging forward to wrap both arms around her. He hauled her across his lap and burrowed his face into her hair, his hold so tight she could barely breathe. </p><p>"He wanted you," Harry said. "Ordered me to take him to you. Tried to convince him to go to hospital instead and he fucking <em>decked</em> me." He pointed to a purpling bruise on his jaw, one that looked about the size and shape of Draco's fist. </p><p>"What happened, Harry?" Hermione demanded, trying to loosen Draco's grip so she could turn around. Even through her shirt, his hands were freezing, his fingers so cold she wouldn't have been surprised if he'd been holding ice. He clung to her, breathing hot and fast against her neck, long deep inhales and quick exhales as if he was trying to take in every molecule of her scent. </p><p>"I don't know. His inquiry was this afternoon. It went—it went wrong. I don't know what the hell happened, but it—None of that was <em>supposed</em> to happen. That wasn't procedure. His inquiries have never gone like that before. Something's wrong and I'm going to find out exactly what that is." Harry turned to Pansy. "I have to get back to the Ministry. Everybody's putting in overtime tonight. Owl Narcissa, tell her that Malfoy's—" </p><p>He looked at Hermione and shoved one hand through his hair. "Tell her something. Just not the truth." He swore in Parseltongue.</p><p>Hermione yelped as Draco's grip tightened, his entire body trembling under her. She pressed her hand to his chest and his heartbeat pounded under her palm. "Harry, what—" </p><p>"I don't have <em>time</em>, Hermione," Harry said. "I have to ask some questions, Mandamus has questions of his own, and I don't have time for this. Pansy, contact Narcissa. Hermione, for fuck's sake, take care of Malfoy." Harry kissed Pansy's cheek and ducked into the Floo. </p><p>Pansy stood still for a moment, then took a deep breath. "I'm not going to send an owl to Narcissa. I'll tell her in person. She knows she can trust me, especially when it comes to Draco."</p><p>"Pansy, what am I supposed to do?" Hermione gestured wildly at her position in Draco's lap, his head still pressed to her neck, his arms locked around her. </p><p>"You heard Harry. Take care of Malfoy." Pansy stepped forward and brushed Hermione's hair away from her shoulder, bending to peer at what little of Draco's face she could see. "He wanted you. He punched my husband to make sure he got to you and not to hospital."</p><p>"But what do I do? What if he—" She lowered her voice despite being convinced Draco wasn't comprehending anything but her presence. "What if something happens?"</p><p>"I don't know," Pansy said. She touched Draco's arm and he shuddered away from her with a quiet, pained noise. Pansy closed her eyes and swallowed hard. "I've never seen him like this. This isn't his usual memory lock. All I would do is rub his neck and hold his hand, and it looks to me like he doesn't need that. Not from me, at least."</p><p>"But—"</p><p>"Hermione, I can't do anything for him. Whatever happened today, whatever went wrong? Whatever fucking thing they did to him? When it was over, he wanted you. Not me, not his mother. <em>You</em>." She gave Hermione a faint imitation of her usual bright smile. "I'd congratulate you if it wasn't such a horrible moment for it."</p><p>She started to touch Draco's head but stopped herself, instead patting Hermione's shoulder. "I'll let Narcissa know he's here, maybe sit with her for a while. If this takes longer than a couple of hours, have him stay overnight. He has a change of clothes in the upstairs cupboard, in the trunk on the top shelf. There should be something for him to sleep in, too. Take care of him, Granger. He's yours now."</p><p>She gave Draco a final worried look, then left the room and shut the door behind her.</p><p>Hermione slid her hand up Draco's arm to rest on the back of his neck. He shivered, breath hot on her throat, and the tremble in his body lessened. Not stopped, but lessened, enough for her to tell that he was calming down. </p><p>Hermione rubbed his neck, feeling up beneath his hair for the tight muscle at the base of his skull. "I'm here, Draco," she whispered. "You're safe." She repeated it, almost crooning to him, until she felt his hands loosen. "That's it," she said. "There we go, Draco. You're safe. I'm here."</p><p>He let out a long breath, and all at once his body relaxed. He tipped his head back, arms falling limp. </p><p>Hermione shifted gingerly, half-afraid he would pin her in place again, but other than a twitch of his hand on her leg, he didn't respond. She kept her eyes on his face as she pushed her shoes off and straddled his thighs, the oversized chair giving her plenty of room even with his large frame filling it. "Draco," she said, both hands cradling his jaw. "Draco, can you look at me?"</p><p>"I didn't tell him," Draco muttered. "Didn't tell him it was you. Knew it was you. Knew—knew soon as I saw you." He shuddered and opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling. "I didn't know her, my Lord."</p><p>His breath picked up, chest rising rapidly, and he pushed back into the chair. "I didn't know her, I don't—I don't. My Lord, no. <em>No</em>."</p><p>Hermione didn't have the slightest clue what the Wizengamot had done to him, but his sudden reactions and the things he babbled were enough to make her chest hurt. He was speaking to his master, to Voldemort, an evil man who'd been dead for ten years. He might not be locked in his memories the way Pansy recognized them, but to Hermione it was clear enough. He was reliving something terrible.</p><p>"Draco!" Hermione leaned forward. "Draco, it's me. I'm here. I have you."</p><p>She slid her hands down his arms, fingers circling his wrists. "Draco—"</p><p>Draco bucked under her, his eyes flying open. "No, no. Master, I didn't, I won't—" He jerked at her hands, twisting out of her grip.</p><p>She clung to his shoulders to keep him from shoving her onto the floor. He was writhing in the chair, fighting as if her hands on his arms had been an attack. Hermione slapped her hand against the back of his neck, digging into his nape. "Draco! It's me. It's Hermione. Come back to me." Deliberately, she took a handful of her hair and held it up to his face. "Breathe, Draco. Smell the jasmine. It's Hermione."</p><p>Draco took a deep breath, nostrils flaring, and his eyes widened. "Hermione." Lifting his head, he stared at her. The slimmest ring of grey circled his pupils. He reached up, fingers trembling, and gathered her hair in both hands, drawing it over her shoulders as he ran his fingers through it. "Jasmine."</p><p>"Jasmine. My shampoo. That's right." Hermione watched him, her pulse racing. He still had no color in his face, no focus in his eyes, but the vicious trembling was mostly gone. She pressed closer to him, slipping both arms around his neck, and leaned her cheek against his. "What else do you smell?"</p><p>"Cinnamon," he muttered after a few moments. "Amber." He went silent, then she heard a soft sniff. "Raspberries?"</p><p>"I went shopping with Pansy today," she said. "You're doing great, Draco. Pansy and I tried a new bakery, and the clerk recommended a raspberry puff pastry. It wasn't very good. What else? Do you smell anything else?"</p><p>"Chocolate. Lemon."</p><p>"Had a lemon tart after the puff pastry. That was much better. And I lied, I had two of them. With a chocolate drizzle." She lifted her head to watch his face again. He'd closed his eyes, and the muscles around them were relaxing. She rubbed the back of his neck with the tips of her fingers, stroking gently down his nape. "Anything else? After the bakery, we split up. Pansy went to her favorite boutique. Guess where I went."</p><p>To her surprise, and her heart-pounding relief, his lips curled in a hint of a smile. "Bookshop. Paper. Ink and glue."</p><p>He wasn't speaking with his typical drawling tones, but he was speaking. That was an excellent sign, she thought. "Bookshop," she confirmed. "A couple of new releases and a replacement copy of one of my favorites."</p><p>Draco hummed under his breath. "Reading. You do that. A lot." He cleared his throat. "Hermione?"</p><p>"I'm here," she said. </p><p>"I don't know—" he muttered. "Everything. It's all—Everything's mixed. All swirled up." His voice softened to a whisper. "I'm lost."</p><p>Even with how quietly he'd spoken, Hermione could hear a terror in his voice. There was a deep, desperate fear in his words, a fear that she didn't understand in the slightest. She didn't need to understand, she decided. The only thing she had to focus on was keeping Draco calm, helping him come back from whatever he'd been through. "You're right here," she said. "You're with me. What's swirled up, Draco? What's mixed?"</p><p>"My head. It's all—it's lost. I don't know. I don't." He opened his eyes. The wide black circle of his pupils had narrowed, a band of grey showing clearly. He looked at her, his hands settling on her waist. "I don't know when I am."</p><p><em>When</em> he was. Hermione scraped her teeth over her lower lip. She thought she had a few of the pieces of the puzzle, a hint of what had happened to him, and each piece she added was more horrifying. It sounded as if all his memories were hitting him at once, leaving him confused and frightened. Whatever they had done to him, it had affected his mind. </p><p>"Take a deep breath," she said, "Jasmine and amber. That's me. That's the smell of me, Draco. You know you've only started smelling that perfume combined with that shampoo on me, this year. It can't possibly be the past." She rubbed his nape and watched his eyes, seeing his pupils gradually contract until there was more grey than black. She smiled at him, leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose. "You're with me," she said. "I'm with you."</p><p>Hermione held her breath as Draco slipped his hands under her shirt to rest on the small of her back. His fingers felt like ice, but she ignored the chill on her bare skin. She concentrated on the good sign of Draco having enough voluntary control of himself to move, to hold her. Tipping her forehead to rest against his, she wriggled closer to him. "Stay with me," she murmured to him. "You know me. I have you."</p><p>She talked quietly to him for several minutes, feeling the tension in his body ease. His eyes slipped back to full grey, his breathing smoothed out, and the muscle under her fingertips lost its hard, knotted feel. </p><p>"Hermione," Draco said, his deep voice rumbling through her.</p><p>She stared into his eyes and settled her hands on his shoulders. "Are you back?"</p><p>"I think—maybe. For the moment." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then nodded as he looked at her. "For now. I think I'm back. I don't know how long I will be, though." He tipped his head and kissed the corner of her mouth, dropping his hands to her hips to push her back. "I should go. While I still have enough of me to get home in one piece."</p><p>"You're going absolutely nowhere," Hermione said, taking a firm grip on his shoulders.</p><p>"I have to get back to the Manor. My mother, she'll worry. She knew that today was—" </p><p>His breath quickened and Hermione reacted without thinking. She leaned forward to kiss him, speaking against his mouth. "Draco. You're safe. Stay here." She realized even as she was saying it that she meant it two ways. Mentally <em>and</em> physically, she wanted him to stay. Rubbing his neck, she waited for his breathing to even out. "Stay with me."</p><p>"Can't," he muttered. "Need to go. Mum—"</p><p>"Pansy already contacted your mother. She knows you're safe. Stay, Draco."</p><p>He tipped his head back and looked at her from under his lashes. "Why? Why do you want me to stay? Because I'm your friend?"</p><p>She went still for a moment, uncertain if he had 'swirled up' the memory of what they'd done at the club the previous weekend, if he'd temporarily lost what they'd said to each other, that they were done practicing and pretending. "Because we're—We've gone past friends," she whispered. "I don't know exactly what we are. But we're more than friends now. Aren't we?"</p><p>Draco met her eyes. She thought she saw relief in his gaze, a flash across his expression that made her heart race. "We are," he said quietly. He caught her hand, his fingers cold around hers, and drew it up to touch her knuckles to his lips. "Something more than that."</p><p>Hermione brushed her thumbs along his jaw. She rested her forehead against his as she let out a shaking breath. "I want you to stay because I've been worried for days. You wouldn't tell me anything. You wouldn't confide in me, you wouldn't let me <em>help</em>, and now you're obviously hurting, and I'm scared and I'm angry and I'm—I care about you. I don't want you to go anywhere until you recover from this. Even if it takes all night. Please, stay."</p><p>Draco dragged his hands up her back. He curled his fingers into her hair and kissed her, slow and light. "All right," he said. "I'll stay."</p>
<hr/><p>Draco didn't know how long they sat together in the chair, but by the time the clock struck eight, Hermione had shifted to curl into his lap with her head on his shoulder and her fingers locked around the placket of his shirt. He leaned his cheek against her hair and laced his hands together, holding her in the circle of his arms. Taking slow breaths let him fill his lungs with jasmine and amber, the scent that was Hermione Granger in his mind. </p><p>That scent wrapped around the jagged edges of his thoughts, calming the storm in his head. He could still feel the pains of the Unspeakable's attack where she had broken into his mind and ripped through his memories, shattering his protective walls one by one. But that pain was lessened with Hermione in his arms. He knew the distress he'd been in by the end of the inquiry, and he remembered ordering Harry to take him to Hermione. Even in that state, he'd known where he needed to be. Who he needed to be <em>with</em>. He'd known he'd be safe with her.</p><p>Draco looked down at her, half-smiling when he caught her looking up at him, the gold flecks in her eyes shimmering. "Feeling better?" </p><p>"I should be asking you that," she said. She nestled in closer to him, knees drawn up to tuck her feet between his leg and the side of the chair. "Are you all right?"</p><p>His first instinct was to avoid the question, dodge away from the truth. The thought of admitting to pain made his heart stutter. But Hermione was watching his face, her brows knotted with obvious worry, and he didn't have the energy to lie right then.</p><p>"No," he said in a low voice. "I'm not all right. There's a mess in my head. I have it mostly under control, I think, but it's—it's rough going."</p><p>"You need to rest," she said. She slid her hand up his chest to touch the corner of his eye. "Get your head down for a while. Get some sleep."</p><p>He turned his head and kissed her palm. "I won't sleep well tonight, Hermione. Odds are I won't sleep at all." She made a distressed noise and Draco smoothed his hand down her arm. "I'm used to it."</p><p>She sat up, shaking her hair back and looked into his eyes for a few moments, her lower lip caught in her teeth. "Come to bed with me."</p><p>Draco blinked, surprised by the invitation. "Hermione, that's—" He shook his head, his imagination running wild and not in a pleasant way. He could all too easily picture what might happen if one of his painful memories broke free while he was with her, and in his current state of mind, the likelihood that one would was too high for him. He didn't think he could handle the mental and emotional strain of sex, on top of everything else he'd gone through that day. "Not that I don't want to but—"</p><p>Her cheeks turned a bright pink and she lowered her lashes. "No, not for that. Just to sleep." She put her finger over his lips before he could speak. "To rest," she corrected. "Even if you don't sleep. You can't stretch out in this chair, the sofa's too short, and I'm not letting you use the bench in the garden." </p><p>She uncurled from his lap and stood, left hand held out to him. "Come to bed."</p><p>"If I put up a fight, I'll lose, won't I?" Draco wrapped his hand around hers, rubbing across the greyhound ring on her finger. He was more pleased than he wanted to admit that she was still wearing it. "Might as well, then. Don't feel much like losing two fights to—"</p><p>
  <i>Malfoy, hold on, fight, we're coming for you! Cold chains on his wrists, heavy leather around his chest, struggling to breathe, spikes whirling through his thoughts, tearing his mind apart, pain hurts hurts it hurts</i>
</p><p>He shuddered, opening his eyes to a close view of Hermione's shirt. She stood between his knees, one hand pulling him forward, one hand on his nape and digging into the base of his skull. Draco set his hands on her hips and lifted his head. "I'm back," he muttered.</p><p>"I saw it," she said, swallowing around her words. "Your eyes dilated and your hand went cold and I <em>saw</em> the memory hit you."</p><p>"I'm here," he said again. "It's gone." He pushed her back a step and stood. She flung her arms around him as soon as he was vertical and he was grateful for it. He'd felt himself sway and if he hadn't already braced himself for her abrupt hug, he might have fallen over. </p><p>Shaking off the dizziness, he settled his arms over her shoulders. "You're right," he said. "I need to rest." </p><p>She looked up at him, one hand lifting to stroke the back of his neck. "Upstairs," she said. "My room."</p><p>He didn't protest further. When she took his hand, he let her lead him out of the sitting room, down the hall, and to the stairs. He started up them and stopped, gripping the railing tight as another wave of dizziness swept over him. The light at the top of the stairs flickered in his vision, like the torches marking the way down to the Wizengamot courtrooms.</p><p>
  <i>Spikes and chains ripping through his head, choking against a leather collar, can't breathe, can't move, fight it, fight, stop it, stop, stop, Hermione take me to Hermione, Hermione, help</i>
</p><p>He opened his eyes with a gasp, his back pressed against one of the stair risers, Hermione kneeling astride him with both hands on his nape. Her chin trembled as she looked at him. "I have you," she said, her voice shaking. "You're safe, Draco."</p><p>Draco took a minute to breathe, bringing his mind into focus. "I'm back," he said, pulling her hands away from his neck. He sat up, holding her on his lap, and buried his face in her hair to take a long inhale. Jasmine and amber soothed his trembles, the familiar scent reminding him that he was out of the courtroom and out of danger.</p><p>When he lifted his head, Hermione moved off him. He got to his feet and she put her arm around his waist. "I have you," she said again.</p><p>He set his arm around her shoulders. "Bed," he said. "Now." Free hand against the wall, he kept his eyes on his boots as Hermione helped him up the stairs. She edged him around the turn, walked him a few steps, and pushed a door open.</p><p>Shuffling across a pale carpet, he let Hermione guide him down onto the edge of a bed. "Sit," she murmured, standing close to wrap both arms around him. "Breathe for a minute. Do you know when you are?"</p><p>He nodded slowly. "I think so." He glanced over his shoulder, judging the space he had to move, then dropped back to his elbows. "Give me—need a minute."</p><p>He heard Hermione make a sound he didn't even try to interpret. He let his arms slide out from under him and thumped onto the thick duvet. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on holding together the rest of his mental walls, finding the cracks in them and making efforts to reinforce the breaks. Keeping the walls in place for so long was going to cost him, he knew, but he didn't see any other option. He couldn't let go, couldn't surrender—</p><p>The bed dipped beside his head and Hermione's fingers brushed at his fringe. "Rest," she said.</p><p>Draco went still, then grabbed at an impulse. He twisted his shoulders, lifting up, and set his head on Hermione's thigh. Hands locked over his stomach, he matched his breathing to the slow stroke of her fingers in his hair.</p>
<hr/><p>Hermione sat on the bed, Draco's head on her lap, for several minutes. His eyes were closed but the lids were trembling. She combed through his hair, biting her lip when he made a pained noise as she touched his temple. "Sorry," she whispered to him, stroking her thumb across his brow. "Let's get you comfortable."</p><p>"I am," he muttered. "Told you before, I like having my hair played with. It's relaxing."</p><p>She smiled down at him. "Then let's get you <em>more</em> comfortable and I'll play with your hair as long as you like."</p><p>She coaxed him to sit up and take off his boots. He managed it with a little effort, and she used the time to cast a charm extending her bed. "There," she said, once her ottoman was shoved against the wall and the footboard was close to one of her multiple bookshelves. "A bit more room for you."</p><p>She set her wand on her nightstand and stood in front of Draco, shoving his boots under the bed with one foot. "Pansy said there's a trunk for you in the hallway cupboard. Something for you to sleep in. Do you want me to fetch it?"</p><p>He shook his head, moving as if even that little motion hurt him. "No," he mumbled. "Belt and shirt. Off. That's enough." Fumbling at his waist, he unbuckled his belt, but that seemed to be all he had the energy to do. </p><p>Hermione drew the belt out of the loops for him, coiling it up on the nightstand. She smiled at him as she took his arm and unbuttoned the cuff of his white shirt. "No jacket and tie today," she said. "If it hadn't been for the blond hair, I might not have recog—"</p><p>Draco lifted his head when she fell silent. "I'm all right," he said. "It doesn't hurt."</p><p>Hermione slipped one finger along the line of the bruise around his wrist. His skin was abraded, scratches and scrapes all the way around his arm. Without speaking, she unfastened the other sleeve and pushed it up to see a matched bruise. Her heart thumped against her ribs and her lungs ached as she tried to catch her breath. "You're lying."</p><p>"It doesn't hurt," Draco said again, taking her hand. "Much. I've been hurt worse."</p><p>"They cuffed you." Hermione felt her eyes watering and she ducked her head. Whatever they'd done to his mind, it looked like they'd chained him down to do it. She blinked the tears away, determined not to put more strain on him by crying. She knew him well enough to know he'd put all his focus into comforting <em>her</em> if she did. "They restrained you, Draco. They treated you like—"</p><p>"A criminal. A Death Eater." He turned his left arm up, bringing the Dark Mark into view. "That's what I <em>am</em>, Hermione."</p><p>"No," she said adamantly. "That's what you were. You're not that boy anymore." She unfastened his collar and the top button of his shirt, working her way down the placket before tugging the shirt out of his trousers. "You're Draco Malfoy and you're a grown man. A <em>better</em> man."</p><p>She pushed the shirt off his shoulders, fingers trailing down his arms. Another faint bruise circled his throat and a wide one spread across his chest. Hermione touched each of the reddened lines, taking care to be gentle with the injured skin, lips pressed together to keep them from quivering. Chained down, mind damaged. It wasn't right. </p><p>It wasn't fair. He'd served his time, changed his life and beliefs, worked hard to make up for his mistakes. He didn't deserve the way people treated him, and it hurt to know that he was <em>used</em> to it, that it never came as a surprise to him.</p><p>That someone caring about him was what surprised him.</p><p>She inhaled sharply and leaned in, kissing him as she tugged his hands free of his sleeves. "You've changed," she said. "You're not the man you were raised to be. The man you are now is a man I like very much."</p><p>Draco pulled back to look at her, his grey eyes holding a hint of disbelief. He searched her face as if he were looking for something he wasn't sure he'd find. Slowly, he smiled, the hint of a dimple flickering in one cheek. </p><p>It wasn't his true smile at full, devastating strength, but under the circumstances, it hit her just as hard. Her knees trembled and her fingers shook as she dropped the shirt on the floor. "Can you stand up? I'll turn down the bed."</p><p>Draco shut his eyes. "No," he mumbled. "Don't think I can." He tipped to the side, rolling onto his back and into the center of the bed with a soft groan. </p><p>Hermione patted his outstretched hand, lip caught in her teeth at the chill that was still in his fingers. The metal of his rings felt warm in comparison to his skin. "That's all right," she said, watching his pulse beat fast in his neck. "Just rest. I'll be right back."</p><p>She rushed down the hall, past Harry and Pansy's room, to the cupboard for extra blankets. Arms loaded, she contemplated jumping up to grab the small trunk as well.</p><p>A cry echoed out of her room.</p><p>Hermione <em>ran</em> back, blankets flung on the end of the bed.</p><p>Draco's entire body was shaking, as if every nerve was firing at once. She scrabbled across the bed to cup his face in both hands, leaning down over him to touch her forehead to his. "Draco," she said urgently. "Draco, it's me. It's Hermione. I'm here. I have you. You're safe." </p><p>"Master," he said in a choked voice. "Master, please, I can't—<em>Stop</em>. I failed, I failed, I know I failed, I couldn't kill him but—No more, <em>please</em>." </p><p>He was lost again, lost and begging for mercy from a monster who'd never had an ounce of it. Hermione stared at empty air for a few seconds, then grabbed her wand and summoned a bottle of perfume from her bathroom. </p><p>She sprayed perfume on her wrists, down her shirt, and into her hair before tossing both bottle and wand onto her nightstand to slip her hands beneath Draco's head. One hand cradling the back of his neck, she ground the knuckles of the other into the taut muscles at his hairline. </p><p>"Breathe," she whispered to him. "Amber and cinnamon. It's me. You know that scent. You know where you are. You know <em>when</em> you are."</p><p>He made a soft sound, too loud to be a breath, too quiet to be audible speech. Hermione watched the shape of his mouth, making out what he was saying.</p><p>Her name.</p><p>He was saying her name, over and over. </p><p>"I'm here," she said. Without letting go of his nape, she stretched out on top of him, her head under his chin. She covered as much of him as her smaller size would allow, shaking her hair to pool beside his cheek.</p><p>Draco shuddered, both arms locking around her, cold hands spread across her back. He clung to her, his grip almost painful, and took a long breath. </p><p>Hermione held on to him, aching to call him home from wherever he'd gone in his mind. She did all that she could, rubbing his neck and whispering to him reminders that she was there, that he was safe with her.</p><p>His tremors gradually eased, his body relaxing under hers. His grip on her back loosened and he rubbed his chin on the top of her head. "Hermione?"</p><p>She shut her eyes, breath catching. "You're back." His grip relaxed further and she pulled her hands from under his neck. "<em>Are</em> you back?"</p><p>"Don't know." He twisted, taking them both to their sides, his eyes half-open. "I don't know anything right now," he muttered. </p><p>"You know I'm here," she said. She draped her arm over him to rub his nape in long, slow strokes. "Focus on that. Keep remembering that. I'm with you."</p><p>He pulled her close to his chest, fingers threaded through her curls to hold her head to him, lips moving in her hair. "Stay with me, Hermione. Don't leave me alone." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Please."</p>
<hr/><p>He couldn't sleep. Draco shuddered, another memory flaring to life inside his mind. His walls were shattered and broken, all of his past spinning through his present. He shook, nerves screaming with remembered agony.</p><p>"Shhh, Draco. I'm here," Hermione whispered to him. She wrapped her arm around him and set her forehead against his chest. </p><p>Draco twisted his fingers in her thick hair. He took a deep breath and probed tentatively at the remnants of his walls. They fell apart at the lightest touch. Memory after memory hit him, each one full of pain.</p><p>
  <i>A bottle flung against a wall, wine dripping down antique flocked paper. Grey eyes as pale and hard as ice, a voice as sharp as a diamond. How dare you—</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Dark hair, grey eyes, oakmoss, and vile laughter. Hot, stale breath against his cheek. Pointed nails in the hollow of his throat. How dare you—</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Red, rage-filled eyes and a vicious shriek of anger. Nerves shrieking with the agony of repeated Cruciatus curses. How dare you fail me, boy.</i>
</p><p>Draco writhed, groaning deep in his throat. He rolled, Hermione shifting underneath him. Shivering, he clung to her and buried his head in the crook of her neck. </p><p>Hermione ran her fingers through his hair to cradle him to her. "I'm here, Draco. You're safe," she murmured. </p><p>He inhaled, jasmine and amber, her familiar scent. "Hermione. I—I'm losing—"</p><p>She rubbed his neck and kissed his brow, stroking his head in a slow rhythm, her small hand warm and gentle in his hair. "You're not lost," she said. Twining one leg around him, she held him close. "You're with me."</p><p>He focused his senses on Hermione and his memories of her. The scent of her perfume, the sound of her voice. The heavy weight of her hair in his hands. The gold flecks in her worried eyes. The taste of her mouth when she kissed him. </p><p>Her soft voice soothed the screaming in his head; her calming touch eased the pain in his nerves. He closed his eyes, the trembling in his body disappearing as he relaxed. He was safe with Hermione; she was safe with him.</p><p>His breathing calmed and deepened as he forced himself to sleep. </p><p>
  <i>I'll kill her, the cracked voice hissed at him from the shadows behind bars. I'll get out of here and I'll kill her. You'll die alone and miserable. I'll destroy the one you love. You'll be desperate to die at your own hand. I'll make sure of it.</i>
</p><p>He twitched, brows knotting. The Dark wizard was a memory; the twisted voice was a memory. The threat wasn't. It wasn't a memory. It was a dream. He knew it, knew he was dreaming. He couldn't move. Trapped, worse than a memory lock, and he couldn't pull himself out of the nightmare.</p><p>Draco grasped at the bars as they dissolved into smoke. The Dark wizard's grin widened, split open into a fanged jaw, spread around him and closed down. He stood on the vast sweep of the Manor's grounds, at the bottom of a slope. A woman screamed from the top of it and Draco tried to spin in place. He stumbled, his Apparition fell apart, and the woman screamed again.</p><p>Lightning flashed, long dark curls and a blue dress fading to black in the darkness. </p><p>
  <em>Hermione.</em>
</p><p>Draco ran up the slope. Ran, ran, ran. His lungs fought him, his muscles failed him. He wasn't getting closer to her, she was alone, and she was screaming.</p><p>And then she wasn't.</p><p>Draco stood alone on the top of the hill, staring at letters writhing in the air. </p><p>
  <i>Too late, Malfoy.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I have her now.</i>
</p><p>Draco wrenched out of the dream with a roar, sitting bolt upright, hand slapping at his side for his wand.</p><p>"Draco. <em>Draco</em>. I'm right here." </p><p>He twisted to see Hermione sitting up beside him. Even in the dark, he could see the concern in her face. Heart pounding, he shoved both hands through his hair and gulped for breath. "Nightmare," he said. "Just a—it was. It was a nightmare."</p><p>Hermione leaned against his shoulder, her hand resting on his forearm. "Is that better than a memory?" she asked quietly. "Because you know it's not real? It never happened?"</p><p>"Sometimes, yes," he said after a few moments. "This one, though. It started—" He sighed, slumping back into the bed. "It started with a real memory." </p><p>"A real memory," she repeated. Hermione stood up and peeled off her jeans, grabbing a thick knitted blanket from the pile he'd kicked onto the floor. She shook it out and spread it across his legs before unhooking her bra and pulling it out through her shirt sleeve to drop it on the floor. He watched through his lashes, too tired to even appreciate her actions. </p><p>She lifted the edge of the blanket and crawled under it to join him. "A bad memory, I assume. And a very bad nightmare."</p><p>He shifted his arm as Hermione laid down beside him. When she settled into place, her head over his heart, he curled his hand around her side. "Not one of the worst. One of the Dark wizards I've arrested. He was there. That was the real part. Then it changed and that's when the nightmare started. He threatened to hurt someone I love. And then I was running after—" </p><p>He cut himself off before he could confess the rest, that his dreams held the truth. The woman he loved was the woman with him, tapping her finger on his sternum in time with his heartbeat. He cleared his throat and shifted his shoulders, wriggling to get more comfortable without dislodging Hermione. It felt as though keeping her close was the only thing keeping him sane. If it were up to him, he'd never spend another night without her at his side. </p><p>Despite his abrupt silence, Hermione didn't ask him to finish his sentence or tell her any more about his nightmare. She hooked one leg over his and gave a slow exhale. "It's over now. I know you can't forget, but you don't have to think about it." Hand flattening over his chest, she nestled in fully against his side. "Go back to sleep, Draco. If you do have another nightmare, I'll be here."</p><p>Draco stroked her hair and closed his eyes, telling himself to sleep. Sleep quietly, sleep without dreaming. </p><p>
  <i>I'll kill her, the voice hissed from the darkness. You'll never see her again. You'll fail, you'll fail as you have so often, and you'll lose her forever. Too late, Malfoy.</i>
</p><p>Draco ran, lungs aching, legs burning, but the top of the slope never grew closer. He heard her screaming, saw lightning flash. No, he told himself. He refused to lose her. He loved her, and he <em>would</em> save her.</p><p>He curled his hands into fists, heat searing through his fingers. He wouldn't fail. Not this time. Not her. He wouldn't fail <em>her</em>.</p><p>He spun in place, the crack of Apparition echoing from one side of the sky to the other. A bolt of lightning dropped him at the top of the hill and he swirled Hermione into his arms, bundled her into the folds of his black robes. He pulled her tight to him and she threw her arms around his neck, safe in his embrace. He picked her up and kissed her, holding her close as jasmine bloomed around the hill, the light of the sunset as warm as amber. </p><p>Draco woke with Hermione in the circle of his arms. Her legs were tangled with his and she'd held his hand in her sleep. He smiled into her hair. She was safe. </p><p>They were both safe, together. </p><p>He shut his eyes and held her, listening to her breathe as he fell asleep.</p><p>
  <i>A small voice called from the shadows and Draco stepped into the nursery. I'm here, he said, picking up his son. He held the baby over his heart. I have you, he whispered. You're safe.</i>
</p>
<hr/><p>Hermione woke with a heavy weight over her side and an unfamiliar sound behind her. It stopped for a few seconds, resumed, stopped again. She turned her head into the pillow, hiding a pleased smile. If that intense snore was anything to judge by, Draco was deep, <em>deep</em> asleep.</p><p>He had his left arm around her, hand beneath her shirt and spread across her stomach. His palm felt warm on her skin and the thought made her heart pick up speed. </p><p>She slipped her fingers into the spaces between his knuckles. He made a soft noise and his hand curled, lacing them together. Hermione held her breath and squeezed gently. She was right. His hands were warm. </p><p>He was out of it. At some point in the night, he'd pulled free of his broken memories. While he'd been sleeping beside her, he'd found his way out of his mind and come back. </p><p>Back to himself and back to her.</p><p>She tried to twist around to look at him but his grip on her tightened. He pulled her firmly against his chest, tucking her in close to his body, right arm curling around her from underneath to fold over her shoulders. Hermione smiled to herself, noticing that she was on the opposite side of the bed from where she usually slept. Not only was Draco holding on to her, at some point they'd traded positions and he was between her and the door. She thought he was protecting her, even in his sleep.</p><p>She let go of his hand and stroked her fingers up his right arm, careful to avoid the dark bruise around his wrist as she followed the lines of the constellation tattoo. Something flickered at the edge of her vision. She lifted her head to get a better view, a tiny giggle breaking out of her when she realized the stars on his arm were fading in and out. </p><p>Draco's snores broke and stopped. "Wha?" he muttered into her hair. "Who?"</p><p>"Sorry," she whispered. She patted his elbow, the snake's tongue flicking down his arm to lick between the constellation's stars. "I didn't mean to wake you. Your tattoo is twinkling."</p><p>He hummed low in his throat. "Good. Blaise'll wanna know. Fuckin' diva 'bout his tat work. Wouldn't shut up 'bout the soddin' dragon."</p><p>Hermione couldn't decide which made her want to grin more: her new knowledge that Blaise was Draco's tattoo artist or Draco's unguarded freshly-woken speech patterns. She wouldn't be surprised if he'd had elocution tutors and expected they'd all die of horror if they heard him now.</p><p>She stretched one leg, stifling a squeak when Draco moved, his knee pressing between her thighs. Tentatively, she curled her foot around his leg. </p><p>Draco hummed again, his fingers moving over her stomach. He cleared his throat and when he spoke again, his voice was back to his usual deep drawl. "Glad it's twinkling. Blaise wanted to try something new. I should probably object to being the subject of his experiments but he doesn't charge me for those."</p><p>He kissed the hollow behind her ear. "Morning," he said with a small yawn. </p><p>Hermione had instinctively braced herself for the scrape of stubble but there wasn't a hint of it when his chin brushed her neck. His skin was smooth and warm, without the new growth of a morning beard. She reached back and patted his cheek with a questioning noise. </p><p>"Inhibitor charm," he said with a small laugh. He rubbed his chin against her palm. "Shave on Monday morning, put the charm on, and I don't need to fuss again for a week. Not that I've ever been a competitor in the facial hair category regardless."</p><p>"You're, um. You sound like you're feeling better," she said, trying not to shiver at the continued slow drags of his fingers on her skin or the weight of his thigh between her legs. She didn't know if he was acting close and affectionate because of the night before or if this was how he always woke up with a girlfriend, but she hoped it was the latter. "Are you? Feeling better?"</p><p>"Feel as though I got dragged behind a train and trampled by centaurs. And that's just the outside." He nodded into her hair when she brushed his wrist, tracing the bruise. "Yes," he murmured. "I lied to you yesterday. Those hurt. They chained me to the chair. There's a set on my ankles too."</p><p>Hermione shivered and Draco pulled her against him again, lifting his head to kiss the point of her jaw. "Not the first time I've been in chains, Hermione. Should have seen the ones they had on me when they took me to Akzaban. That set had spikes on the inside."</p><p>Hermione went still, expecting Draco's hands to drop temperature or his body to stiffen as an old, painful memory hit him, but the only change in his movements was to push up onto his elbow. Either his mental walls had rebuilt, and <em>better</em> than before despite the agony of yesterday, or he was distracted enough that the memory of prison couldn't get through. </p><p>She bit her lip, trying to decide how to ask, then Draco rolled his hips against her. She pressed back in an instinctive response and he muffled a groan in her neck.</p><p>He kissed down her throat, nudging her collar aside to nip at the base of her neck. "For future reference," he muttered into her skin. "This is one of my favorite ways to wake up." He kissed her throat again and pushed at her shirt, his thumb brushing the underside of her breast. "Take this off, Hermione."</p><p>"Oh, god," she muttered. Heat spread across her abdomen, centered under his palm, and she tried to focus. "Draco. Draco, I—I don't. Don't want to—"</p><p>He went still. "You don't want to," he echoed flatly. He drew his hand out of her shirt and sat up on the edge of the bed. "Well. Not surprised, I suppose, after trying to keep me from screaming half the night. I've only known one woman who could still find me attractive after that."</p><p>"No, Draco." Hermione sat up, staring at him. His shoulders were stiff, arms tense as he gripped the edge of the mattress. She knew she was imagining it, but the dragon on his back looked as if it was giving her a disgusted sneer. Hermione shuffled across the bed to put her head on his spine and her hands around his waist. </p><p>"Draco. I don't want to start something before I'm sure you're all right," she said. She listened to his heartbeat, a steady thrum under her ear. "That's all I meant. Do you think a few nightmares would put me off?"</p><p>He didn't pull away from her but he didn't relax. "I did," he said eventually. "Not something most people would want to deal with. Screaming nightmares three or four times a month. Although giving you an introduction to that on a first night lets you back out early. I won't be surprised if you decide 'more than friends' isn't what you want after all." </p><p>His voice softened as he spoke, his head lowering until he was staring at the floor. </p><p>Hermione rose up on her knees to put her chin on his shoulder, trailing her fingers up his chest along the ridge of his Sectumsempra scar. "Do you think I don't know <em>some</em> of what you've gone through? That I haven't read file after file about the Death Eaters and Vol—the Dark Lord and the things you and your family had to do to survive? I've read your trial transcripts and your confessions and your testimonies. I'll never understand everything that happened to you, especially since you seem to be determined to hide parts of it from me. But I'm not going to stop caring about you."</p><p>She kissed the side of his neck, pressing her lips to the prisoner number inked into his skin. "I'm not going to stop wanting you. When you're trapped in a memory or having a nightmare, I'm going to be right at your side because I want you and that's where I want to <em>be</em>."</p><p>Moving to sit beside him, one hand pressed over his heart, she tipped her head against his arm. "You're important to me. And I think I'm important to you. And the only way you're going to get rid of me is if you chase me off, Draco Malfoy. Because a bad night isn't going to do it, and this had better not be the only time I sleep in your arms, do you hear me?"</p><p>He sat without speaking for a few moments, then slipped his arm around her. He kissed the top of her head and took a long, deep breath. "It won't be," he said into her hair. "It won't be the only time, Hermione. Not if—not if you can handle the bad nights. If you can do that, this will be the first of many. Every chance I get, really."</p><p>Hermione leaned against him, eyes closed. "I can," she said. "I want to be there for your bad nights. For your bad ones and your good ones and—" She stopped herself before she could admit to what she really wanted. All of his nights, for the rest of their lives.</p><p>Lifting her head, she stretched to kiss him. She didn't stop to think that her teeth weren't brushed or her hair was a mess or anything else. She didn't want to think beyond the pressure of Draco's lips against hers and the heat of his hand as he curled his fingers around her side.</p><p>She turned to him and hooked her leg over his, letting her foot dangle between his calves. Taking his hand, she dragged it up between her breasts. "Shall we start over?"</p><p>Draco grunted when she wriggled on his thigh. "Actually," he said, circling her waist with both hands. He picked her up and eased her onto the bed, standing in the same moment. "I have a different idea. Shame this bed isn't big enough for me to do it the way I prefer, but I can improvise."</p><p>Hermione stared, eyes wide and heart racing, as Draco dragged her reading chair to the side of the bed and sat down in front of her. She hadn't intended much more than kissing. This hadn't been in her mind at all. She bit her lip, watching Draco's darkening eyes, then glanced over his shoulder at her closed bedroom door. Looking back to Draco, she smiled and parted her thighs.</p><p>"That's my girl," Draco said with a soft purr in his voice. He hooked his hands under her knees and lifted them over his legs, spreading her open. </p><p>Leaning back on her elbows, Hermione held her breath as Draco bent over her, kissing his way up one thigh. She reached for the sides of her knickers and he growled, making her freeze as her heart pounded. The sound had shot deep into her, a coil of heat low in her body. "Draco?"</p><p>"Patience, pet," he said. He gave the small ribbon a considering appraisal, then looked at her. "Do you want to keep these?" he asked.</p><p>Hermione shook her head. "No? They're not, um. Not special or any—why?" She watched, mouth hanging open, as Draco leaned down.</p><p>He closed his teeth around the ribbon, tugged it off her hip, and snapped his head. The ribbon shredded away from the lace front. Before her surprised shriek had faded, he'd stripped her of the ruined knickers, a kiss pressed to the arch of her hip.</p><p>She dropped back onto the bed, hands over her mouth, and shifted her legs, settling them over Draco's shoulders. She shivered at his dark, pleased laugh. "That's my girl," she heard him say again. </p><p>He wrapped his arms around her thighs, shoving her backwards to position her to his liking, and bent to her. Without hesitating, he licked her in one long stroke before starting a teasing exploration of her body. Hermione quivered under him. He'd told her the truth before. He was very fond of taking his time.</p><p>"So good," he said. Lifting his head, he rubbed his thumb over her clit. "I've wondered for a long time how you'd taste. How wet you'd be with my mouth on you. I wasn't even close." He kissed her leg and easily slid two fingers into her, drawing them out to rub them over his lips. "You're dripping for me, pet."</p><p>Hermione didn't have a hope of keeping back her moan. She canted her hips, offering herself up to Draco's mouth. </p><p>He laughed, low and promising, and nipped her thigh. "What do you want?"</p><p>"Tongue," she said immediately. "I want your tongue."</p><p>Draco licked the inside of her thigh, his breath hot on her mound. "Like that?"</p><p>"God, no. I want—" Hermione rolled her hips against the bed, yelping when Draco pressed his hand over her stomach and pinned her in place. "I want your tongue, Draco. On my—on me."</p><p>"You know what I want to hear, pet. Give it to me."</p><p>"Dra—<em>Sir</em>." Her face burned hot and she fought the urge to cover her eyes. She liked to beg, he <em>knew</em> she liked to beg, and he was using it against her. "Please, Sir," she said. "Use your tongue on me."</p><p>"Say it." Draco spoke firmly, sitting up enough to look up the length of her body. "Say the word, pet."</p><p>Hermione keened. Her blush spread down her neck and across her chest, her skin as hot as Draco's hands. She dug her nails into the blanket beside her hips. "Sir, my clit. Please use your tongue on my clit. In my cunt, please, Sir, lick me."</p>
<p>"There you go," he said with a purr. "That's a good girl. Did you feel yourself get wetter when you begged?" He dragged his fingers over her mound, pinching her clit gently. "I could see it. You're halfway to orgasm already, beautiful girl. Will you scream for me?"</p><p>He bent down and flicked the point of his tongue over her clit once. "You don't have to," he said, glancing up at her through his lashes, and gave another flick. "Scream when you come, that is. You don't have to, not here." He flicked again, harder. "But it would make me <em>very</em> happy if you do, pet. I want you to scream my name." </p><p>He dropped his head and sucked hard on her clit. Hermione shrieked.</p><p>Whimpering under her breath, Hermione threaded her fingers through Draco's hair, his head bobbing under her hands. He worked his tongue through her folds, over her clit, inside her cunt. He grabbed her hips and lifted her up to his mouth, pulling another shriek out of her. </p><p>She knew she was begging him to keep going, pleading with him for more, but she couldn't hear her own words. Her heart was thundering in her ears, the rush of her pulse blocking out every other sound. Her world narrowed to the feel of his hair under her hands and his lips around her clit.</p><p>His long fingers slipped inside her, twisting to find her G-spot. She arched her back and clawed at the blanket, her body tightening with need. Draco's tongue shifted rhythm and Hermione moaned. "Don't stop," she pleaded. "Like that, don't stop. Draco, don't st—<em>fuck</em>."</p><p>She locked her ankles together behind his back and bucked her hips against his mouth. So close. She was so <em>close</em> and Draco had found exactly the right speed and pressure to send her over the edge. "Please, Draco, please, that's per—<em>yes</em>."</p><p>Heat flared over her skin. She clamped down on Draco's fingers with a scream, scrabbling at his free hand. He laced his fingers in hers and held on tight as she rode out her climax, shuddering through every second of it and calling his name. Draco didn't lift his head until she moaned and tugged at his hair.</p><p>"Good girl," he said with a kiss to her thigh. "My precious, beautiful girl. That is a sound I am never going to get tired of hearing. Can't believe I've waited this long." He sat back in the chair, her legs falling limp into his lap.</p><p>Hermione glanced down to see his face, flushed pink and wet from nose to chin before he wiped his mouth and licked his fingers. She closed her eyes, struggling to breathe as aftershocks rippled through her. "I'd return the favor," she said hoarsely. "But I don't think I can move."</p><p>Draco patted her leg. "Your turn to rest," he said. "Just don't fall asleep on me. I don't know where Pansy keeps my trunk and I'm definitely going to need a change of clothes."</p><p>"No walk of shame for you?" she asked, rolling to stretch out on the bed. She grabbed the blanket and pulled it over her aching hips to cover herself.</p><p>Draco laughed. "I have never once taken a walk of shame. For you, Granger, I'll take a walk of pride." He stood with a groan, adjusting the front of his trousers, and leaned over her to kiss her forehead. </p><p>She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, tugging at him. "We could both take a rest and then?" She hummed and gave an inviting glance to the space beside her, both brows lifting. "We could."</p><p>He braced himself on one arm and shook his head. "Not in this bed. I didn't have enough room to properly do what I just did. There's definitely not enough room for more. I'd give myself a concussion on that headboard." He bent and took the shell of her ear between his teeth, his voice dropping into a pitch that rumbled through her. "But I want to. I want you, Hermione. I'll go mad if I can't have you soon."</p><p>Hermione whimpered, a fresh heat fluttering between her thighs. "Soon," she pleaded. "Very soon."</p><p>Kissing her temple, he made a soft purring sound of agreement. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to use your shower. Once you regain use of your legs, if you could find my trunk and my wand, I'd appreciate it."</p><p>Hermione ran her fingers through his hair and cupped his jaw, the greyhound ring on her hand matched to the grey of his eyes. "You're ready to face the day, then? Even if it means breakfast with both of our best friends, who very likely heard us?"</p><p>Draco looked down at her, then gave his full smile, eyes gleaming, dimples springing to life in his cheeks. "As long as you face it, and them, with me? Absolutely."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The kitchen was, unfortunately, not empty when Draco made his way downstairs after his shower. Harry was at the breakfast table, forehead down on the wood, one hand clenched around a still-steaming mug. The filled coffee pot sat waiting.</p><p>Draco didn't even try to walk quietly across the kitchen. "Morning, Potter," he said, plucking a large mug off the rack hanging from under the top cabinet. His wand was resting next to the coffee pot and he slipped it into his back pocket with his cigarette case.</p><p>"Of all the things," Harry said into the table. "I thought I might hear in my lifetime. Not once. Not <em>once</em> did I ever consider what I heard this morning. If I could scrub out the inside of my brain with a cactus, so that the words 'please, Draco, don't stop' never existed, I could die a happy man."</p><p>Draco stayed silent as he put cream and sugar into the mug and filled it with coffee. He examined the shopping list stuck to the side of the refrigerator and added 'coffee for D' to the bottom.</p><p>"And to top it off," Harry continued. "Do you know what my delightful loving wife said to me while I was cowering under a pillow and attempting to remove my own ears? 'At least he's not fucking her,' she said. Crying with laughter, might I add. She was actually in tears. 'The headboard would be cracking the plaster if he was.' And then she laughed so hard she fell off the bed."</p><p>Draco took a sip, turned around, and leaned against the counter with his arms folded. "I wasn't," he said. </p><p>"Do me a favor," Harry told the table. "Never ever. Ever. <em>Ever</em>. Let me hear her screaming like that again."</p><p>Draco slurped his coffee deliberately. "Message received. Keep her mouth full."</p><p>"You <em>bastard</em>." Harry sat up, shaking his head, the purple bruise of Draco's punch showing clearly under dark stubble. "God, you're a dick."</p><p>"I know." Draco pushed open the door leading into the garden and stood, leaning one shoulder on the jamb, to have a cigarette. "But I will give you a thousand Galleons if you can tell me, one hundred percent honestly, that Granger's never been forced to listen to you and Parks."</p><p>Harry examined the inside of his coffee mug and coughed, his cheeks turning a light pink.</p><p>"That's what I thought," Draco said.</p><p>They both drank their coffee without speaking further. Draco watched the twirls of smoke from the end of his cigarette, listening to the morning birds and the soft rustle of leaves in the garden. He heard Harry's chair scrape across the floor and he forced himself not to tense. The verbal jousting was a moment of amusement, but he wasn't fool enough to think they'd stay on that topic. Harry was his boss, his colleague, and his friend, and Draco knew Harry would want to talk about the events at the inquiry. </p><p>"Malfoy." Harry came close to the door and lowered his voice. "How do you feel?"</p><p>Draco tucked the cigarette into the corner of his mouth and stared into his empty mug. Tapping the band of his signet ring on the ceramic, he gathered himself. He couldn't seem to find his voice, ring tapping faster and faster as he struggled for his control.  </p><p>Spinning around, he whipped the coffee mug across the garden to smash into the wall at the far end. He stalked into the garden, pacing down the length of it and back as he finished his cigarette, end dropped into the firepit. Jaw tight, fists clenched, he stopped a few feet from Harry. There were several words he could choose to describe how he felt, and not one of them that he was willing to speak aloud. He ground his teeth, finally saying the word that made his chest hurt the least. "Violated." </p><p>Harry watched him for a few moments, then closed his eyes. "You were," he said in a soft voice.</p><p>Draco flinched, turning away. He shoved both hands through his hair and locked his fingers behind his head, pressing on the back of his neck. Staring up at the sky, he concentrated on his breathing and counted to five on each inhale and exhale. </p><p>"As Head Auror," Harry said behind him, "I'm supposed to officially set up an appointment for you to speak with one of the department counselors. And since I know your response to that is going to be 'fuck you, Potter', I'm not going to bother."</p><p>Draco stared at a wisp of a cloud scudding across the sky. Inhale, count to five. He put a stone in place in his mind. Exhale, count to five. Another stone. He listened to the wind in the leaves and smelled the flowers blooming along the wall of the garden. Another stone. He smelled jasmine, like the scent of Hermione's hair. </p><p>He set another stone. A stone, and a stone, and a wall, and a thicker wall. Stone after stone, a wall in his thoughts.</p><p>"You don't have to talk to one of them," Harry said. "You don't have to talk to anyone. But I need to talk to you."</p><p>Draco wrapped vines of star jasmine around his walls.</p><p>"Off the record. Unofficial." Harry was silent for a few heartbeats. "As your friend, Malfoy."</p><p>Draco dropped his hands and turned around. Harry had moved into the garden, but stayed well out of his reach. Pansy and Hermione stood in the doorway, shoulders pressed together, expressions tense and worried. Draco looked from face to face, settling on Hermione's, then uncurled his fingers and held one hand out to her.</p><p>She walked to him, her eyes locked on his, and put her fingers on his palm. Draco pulled her close to wrap his arm around her shoulders. In his mind, the stones took on a reddish hue, mortared with amber.</p><p>"You can talk to me," he said to Harry. "I won't talk to you."</p><p>Harry watched him, then gave a reluctant nod. "If that's how you want it." He turned to Pansy. "Where did we put those breakfast trays? We could all eat out here, what do you think?"</p><p>Pansy arched her brows, flicking a glance at Draco. "They're in a cabinet somewhere. Help me find them, Potter."</p><p>Draco inclined his head in acknowledgement as Pansy dragged Harry back into the house. They were both too obvious about leaving him alone with Hermione but he didn't care. He ran his hand up to her neck beneath her hair, still damp on the underside.</p><p>She looked up at him and silently tugged him over to the firepit, where she climbed up to stand on the bench. Face to face with him, she draped her arms over his shoulders. </p><p>Draco slid his arms around her and set his forehead against hers. "I won't," he muttered. "I won't talk about it."</p><p>Hermione stroked the back of his neck. "I know. You <em>don't</em> talk about things. Too many things. It could help, you know. To talk about it even a little."</p><p>For a moment, he considered telling her. Telling her how he could still feel the Unspeakable in his mind, how his thoughts felt tainted. How there were memories that he'd never see again without feeling Prier's touch on them. </p><p>How he'd been injured worse physically, been Cruciated by his master until he was seizing on the floor of the Manor and drooling blood into the cracks between the stones, but this–</p><p>This had <em>hurt</em>. </p><p>His throat closed and he shook his head. "No," he said, his voice roughened to the point where he didn't recognize it himself. "I can't. Not everything. Not–not what. Not details."</p><p>"Shh," she murmured, running her fingers through his hair. "You don't have to. You don't have to say anything, Draco. I'm here, no matter what you do or don't say." She held him in silence for a minute, then kissed between his brows. "I'm your girlfriend. I'm here for you."</p><p>Draco leaned back to look into her eyes. "Girlfriend," he said after a moment. "Pretend or real?"</p><p>Her lashes fluttered and she caught her lip in her teeth. Before she could speak, he slipped his fingers under her shirt and trailed up her spine to make her shiver. "Because I told you already," he said. "I'm done pretending."</p><p>He spread his hands across her back, cheek pressed against hers. He took long breaths, jasmine and amber surrounding him. Closing his eyes, he wreathed more of his walls in vines as Hermione rubbed his nape. He kissed her, growling softly when Hermione's fingers trailed across his neck to cradle his cheeks. She gave a quiet whimper and opened for him. Draco deepened the kiss, one hand buried in her hair to hold her to him.</p><p>A soft cough came from the opposite side of the firepit and Draco looked sideways without releasing Hermione. Pansy set down a pair of folding trays; Harry floated several full plates onto one and the refilled coffee pot and four mugs onto the other. </p><p>Draco kissed Hermione again. "Think they're attempting to interrupt us," he said. "Without actually being so crass as to tell us to stop."</p><p>"The number of times I've caught them in the sitting room," Hermione said. "You'd think they'd at least give us the chance to catch up."</p><p>With an amused lift of his brows, Draco took her by the waist and lifted her down. When he sat, she took the place beside him, legs curled sideways on the bench. Draco dropped his arm over her shoulders without thinking. He didn't know what Harry wanted to say to him or how difficult the conversation might turn out to be, but having Hermione's warmth next to him made him feel ready for it. </p><p>Not ready, he admitted to himself. But not avoiding it, either.</p><p>Pansy fixed a cup of coffee and held it out by the handle. Draco curled his palm around the bottom of it. "Broke a mug," he said. "Think it was the biggest one in the house, too."</p><p>"I'll get a bigger one," Pansy said. "Since I think you'll be spending even more time here than you already do."</p><p>Draco glanced down through his lashes at Hermione, rubbed his fingers on her shoulder, and didn't respond to the jibe. He was sure the heat he could feel across his cheeks was answer enough.</p><p>Harry tore the crusts off a piece of toast and sighed. "Malfoy," he said. "Before anything else, I need you to know something."</p><p>Draco tensed, his hand locking around Hermione's shoulder. She leaned into him and put her hand on his knee as he took a deep breath.</p><p>"Prier's been arrested," Harry said. "McGowan as well. They're both in holding. Six witnesses will keep them there."</p><p>"Witnesses. You mean the rest of the panel. Who all sat there and did <em>nothing</em>."</p><p>"None of them had participated in one of your inquiries before. They didn't know it was irregular." </p><p>Draco had to force himself not to stiffen up. Hermione stirred against his side and he ducked to kiss the top of her head, rubbing her arm. "Irregular's one way to put it," he said after a moment. He sipped his coffee, raising a brow at the flavor. There was a generous amount of brandy in the cup. Pansy must have readied that before she and Potter left the kitchen. "Personally, I'd describe it as a clusterfuck."</p><p>Harry slumped back on the bench, prodding his jaw beneath the bruise and wincing. "I spent half the night questioning McGowan. She, um. She." He shook his head and pushed his glasses up to rub his eyes. "She set the entire thing up on her own. It was completely unsanctioned. The Wizengamot didn't approve this. They had nothing to do with it."</p><p>Draco stopped with the mug at his mouth. He blinked. "What?"</p><p>Pansy took Harry's plate away from him a second before he leaned forward abruptly, both hands curled into fists. "They had nothing to do with it, Malfoy. It was McGowan, it was entirely her, and I'm sorry. I knew there was something fishy about your inquiry being moved up and I didn't look into it. I should have. I should have questioned it. She didn't even <em>move</em> your inquiry, just created a new one and convinced the other six that it was all on the up and up. Faked the paperwork and everything."</p><p>"Why did she do it?" Hermione asked, her hand flexing on Draco's knee. "What was her reason?"</p><p>"Financial motive," Harry said. "She was bribed and she bribed Prier in turn. We don't know who the source was yet, but we're going to find out."</p><p>Draco stared into his coffee mug for a few seconds, then set it down on the edge of the firepit. He leaned back on the bench, eyes closed. Hermione twisted to get one arm over his shoulders, her fingers slipping into his hair to rub his nape. "Do you mean to tell me," Draco said, carefully measuring his words. "That this was about money. The entire time. That everything they did. Was for money."</p><p>"What did they want?" Pansy asked. "What did they <em>do</em>?"</p><p>Her voice shook and Draco opened one eye to look at her. She was leaning against Harry, her fingers curled tight around the hem of her shirt, one heel tapping against the ground. She lowered her head, her sleek bob swinging forward to hide her face.</p><p>"I've never seen you like that," she said, twisting her shirt in her fingers. "Not even after you were Marked. I've sat up all night with you before but you've never been that far gone. <em>Never</em>."</p><p>Harry pulled Pansy close, cradling her head against his shoulder. He looked at Draco. "Your call, Malfoy," he said. "Extent of information is up to you."</p><p>Draco hadn't known that Pansy had seen his arrival at the townhouse and had seen him in that state. In his distress, he'd only had a thought for one person, and the moment he'd heard Hermione's voice, he'd ignored everything else, including his best friend, the person who already knew most of his secrets. </p><p>He wet his lips and shook his head. He felt Hermione slip her hand into his and he curled his fingers to lace them together. Looking into her dark eyes, he realized that <em>if</em> he were capable of admitting to anyone what he'd gone through, he wouldn't tell Pansy. He'd seek out Hermione. </p><p>He leaned over to kiss Hermione's temple, squeezing her hand. "It was bad," he said to Pansy. "Very bad, Parks. That's all you need to know."</p><p>Brushing his thumb across Hermione's knuckles, he cleared his throat and stared into the firepit. "As to what they wanted. They wanted the ceremony. The rite." He pushed his sleeve up, exposing the fading lines of the Dark Mark. "They wanted to know how to do this."</p><p>Hermione set her free hand on his wrist, fingers just beneath the serpent's gaping mouth. "But why?" she asked. "It's–He's dead. It can't be used anymore, right? He's dead and so is the magic that made this."</p><p>"It's valuable information," Draco said. "How he did it. He created the magic himself and it's impossible to replicate. No one knows how it was done." He met Harry's eyes. "Except for me. I'm the sole man left alive who remembers how to perform the ritual."</p><p>"But <em>why</em>?" Hermione asked again. "Why would anyone put you through whatever they did in order to get it? How is it worth that kind of torture?"</p><p>"I can imagine why someone would want it," Pansy said. "Someone wants to have something that no one else has." She sniffed, wiping her thumb beneath her eye. "My father spent half my inheritance trying to chase down a <em>camellia</em> because he wanted to have the world's rarest flower in his greenhouse. People do stupid things when they believe they deserve whatever it is they want and they'll spend any amount of money to get it."</p><p>"I've received offers for it before." Draco leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "I've been offered vaults full of Galleons, which I don't need. Been offered high-ranking positions in the Ministry, which I don't want. One man said he'd give me a choice of his twin daughters, and I cursed that bastard. They were fourteen."</p><p>"You've never reported any of this," Harry said, furrowing his brows. </p><p>"I never thought anyone would go this far." Draco brushed his temple, feeling the sore place under his hair where Prier had gripped his skull. "It's always been whispers over brandy and cigars. I've never taken it seriously."</p><p>"Do you think it's connected to the rope killer?" Hermione asked. She rubbed his back, fingers stroking along his spine.</p><p>Harry shook his head. "No. All McGowan wanted was the bribe. Give us the names of anyone who's tried for it before, Malfoy, and we'll investigate them, but as far as McGowan and Prier went, they were after the money. McGowan thinks you owe her."</p><p>Draco blinked. "What, because I threw her boy out of the trainee program? Grandson, great-grandson, whatever he is."</p><p>"Great-grandson," Harry said. "Partially that, a little revenge. But mostly because they didn't get much Ministry assistance after the war. His parents both died but because they weren't killed as a result of direct Death Eater actions, the disbursement McGowan received on his behalf was third-tier."</p><p>"Oh, you're fucking kidding me," Draco said. He shrugged off Hermione's hand and stood to move away from the group, lighting a cigarette with a snap of his fingers. "The reparations? The Ministry took over three hundred million Galleons for payments to victims, twenty percent of my family's assets. Mortgage assistance, loan closures, scholarships, medical care, property replacement. If someone could make the <em>thinnest</em> claim that they had damages from something the Death Eaters or the Dark Lord did, they could apply to the fund."</p><p>He blew smoke at the sky and gave a harsh laugh. "But it wasn't enough? Then they could have applied for reconsideration if they wanted more. Hell, they could have sent my financial advisor a personal letter and had a pile of gold dropped in their vaults the next morning. I've been throwing money at that bloody fund for years. Five percent of my income, every second of May, and don't think it doesn't piss me off that I'm the only Death Eater who actually <em>reformed</em> so I'm the only one that contributes."</p><p>"Malfoy."</p><p>"<em>Potter</em>," Draco snarled. "I'll find out who did this."</p><p>"No, you won't. We'll tell you who did it. You're not investigating this case for MLE. You know you can't."</p><p>Draco's eyes narrowed. He exhaled twin streams of smoke through his nose, staring at Harry, then set his jaw with a growl. "No, I can't. Professional conflict, I'm aware. No Auror may investigate any activity or incident in which they have a personal interest." </p><p>He finished his cigarette and dropped the end into the firepit, taking his seat beside Hermione. "Who questioned Prier?" he asked. </p><p>"Mandamus. I observed." Harry's eyes hardened. "She was <em>smug</em> as hell about the whole thing. Proud of herself. Said you were one of the hardest subjects she'd–" He stopped himself, glancing at Pansy and Hermione, then back to Draco. "Sorry," he said quietly. "You don't want to talk about this."</p><p>Draco drummed his fingers on the edge of the bench. "No, I don't," he said. "I don't want to talk about this. She was in my head," he said. Clearing his throat, he set his arm around Hermione and twisted his fingers in her hair. A burst of jasmine rose up, settling him.</p><p>"She was in my head," he repeated. "I am an <em>expert</em> Occlumens. Trained by one of the best in the world. And I couldn't keep that woman out. It wasn't Legilimency. It was something far more vile. She–" His voice caught and Hermione turned closer to him, pushing one arm behind his back to lock her hands together around his waist. Draco took a deep breath - cinnamon, amber, jasmine - and let it out slowly. </p><p>Harry waited, but when Draco shook his head and made an abrupt, halting gesture, he sighed. "They've been experimenting in the brain room. Prier grabbed the chance. There was something she wanted to try, in addition to looking for the information McGowan wanted."</p><p>Harry leaned forward, watching Draco's face. "Malfoy," he said. "Tell me what you remember after Dumbledore died."</p><p>"What does this have to do with–"</p><p>"Just tell me. You were on the tower, the others came in, Snape killed him, you and the other Death Eaters fled. You've testified to this. What happened next?"</p><p>Draco rubbed the backs of his knuckles along his jaw. "We left the tower. We–" He stared at Harry for a moment, then closed his eyes to concentrate. "We left the tower. Snape and I, we–" </p><p>Curling his fist, he tapped it on his thigh. "The tower," he said again. "We left. And then–"</p><p>Hermione tightened her arms around him. "Draco?" she said. "What happened next?"</p><p>He opened his eyes. "We left the tower. And then I was home." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I don't remember."</p><p>Harry ruffled his hair and swore in Parseltongue. Draco shuddered, but his usual revulsion to the language slipped away from him fast. He couldn't think about that. He dug through his mind, pushing memories aside, hunting for the events between Dumbledore's death and his frantic, terrified arrival at the Manor.</p><p>There was nothing there. He found an empty space in his thoughts and that was it. </p><p>He felt Hermione moving, shifting on the bench to sit on her knees beside him. She slid her arms around his shoulders, one hand on the back of his neck. "Breathe," she whispered to him. "I'm here."</p><p>"It's not a memory lock," he said. He brought his hand up and curled his fingers around her arm beneath his throat. "I'm not–it's not there. We left the tower. I was home. There's nothing in between. The entire memory is <em>gone</em>. I don't remember what happened."</p><p>"That's what I was afraid of," Harry said. He took his glasses off and scrubbed both hands over his face with a groan. "She said she took that out of your head. She did it deliberately. Said she wanted to know if she could do it to someone with a perfect memory."</p><p>Slipping his glasses onto his face, Harry slumped on the bench and tipped his head back. "Looks like she could."</p><p>"Gone?" Pansy said. She covered her mouth with one hand, watching him. "Draco, darling. I'm sorry. You must be shaken."</p><p>Draco closed his eyes. They'd played games when they were younger, Pansy and Blaise laughing with him, testing his memory with covered trays of little objects or questions about what day something inconsequential happened. He'd settled hundreds of bets over the years because of one thing he remembered. He enjoyed his memory, most of the time. He was proud of his skill, but–</p><p>There <em>were</em> things he wished he could forget. </p><p>
  <i>My Lord, no, please–</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Draco Lucius Malfoy, you have been found guilty of crimes–</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He’ll kill me! He’ll kill my whole–</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Lord and master, I will obey. I swear by flame–</i>
</p><p>He wished he could forget. But not like this. He could feel the woman's spikes grabbing hold of a thought, could still feel how she'd shredded through his defenses and destroyed the memory. He remembered hearing himself scream.</p><p>He knew he'd tensed up, because Hermione tipped her head to him, her fingers rubbing the base of his skull. Turning to touch his lips to her cheek, he murmured, "I'm here. I'm all right." </p><p>Draco took a breath of amber and he focused on Harry. "Will Mandamus expect me to testify?"</p><p>"We don't even know what we're going to charge them with yet. We'll discuss that." Harry raised his brows. "You won't. You're not coming in to the office today, Malfoy. Hell, you're not coming in for a couple of days at the very least."</p><p>"I have an active case," Draco protested. "One that I've barely touched in a week as it is."</p><p>"Then think of something to do with it that doesn't involve coming to the Ministry. It's field work through the rest of this week." </p><p>"I have two trainees I need to check on, god knows how much paperwork to look through, and Townie's bound to have reports for me. And you want me to ignore all of that? What do you want me to do instead?"</p><p>"As long as it's not at the Ministry, do whatever you like. Go to Yorkshire for all I care." Harry sat up straight, his voice taking on a firm tone. "Do another round of interviews. Take another look at the scenes. Send reports by owl. Do not come into the office."</p><p>The unofficial, off the record portion of the conversation was over, that much was obvious. Draco narrowed his eyes, tugging Hermione's arms from around his neck. "Is that an order, Head Auror Potter?"</p><p>"I'll make it one if I have to, Auror Malfoy." </p><p>"Harry," Pansy said quietly. "Don't." She tipped her head to his ear and whispered to him, words that Draco couldn't hear. From the way Harry's eyes widened, Draco suspected he was glad for that. He didn't want to know what information Pansy had just shared to get that look of concern on Harry's face.</p><p>Hermione leaned her shoulder against his arm. "Draco," she said in a low voice. "Harry's right and you know it. You shouldn't be in the Ministry for a few days. Yorkshire's a good idea." </p><p>Draco ground his teeth. He hadn't intended to go in that day and had planned to take a couple of days away in any case, but it galled him to have it be an official directive. "Fine," he said after a sharp inhale. "I'll cover old ground again. A great use of my time. I'll start the day after tomorrow."</p><p>Pansy looked about to speak but Draco arched a brow and she subsided, arms folded and lips pressed tight together. He'd be hearing her extensive thoughts on his behavior before long, he knew. The question was if Blaise would back her up. Very likely. </p><p>He stood with a jerk to his sleeves, tugging them down to cover the bruises around his wrists. He felt a muscle jumping in his cheek and carefully gathered his temper. "If you'll excuse me. Since I won't be needed in the office today, I'll head home. I'll send my owl to collect my things from yesterday."</p><p>Harry gave him a resigned look that Draco ignored. He shook his head and held his hand out to Hermione. "Walk me out?"</p><p>She shot a look at Harry and Pansy, then took his hand and tugged him into the house. She didn't speak until they were at the Floo. "You're being an arse," she said. "You know Harry's right."</p><p>"Doesn't mean I have to like it." She glared up at him and Draco resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. "Yes, he's right. You're right. Yorkshire is a good idea. I do have questions about their reports. I'm not happy about being sent off like a child, though."</p><p>"You're not and you know it. Taking a little more time is a <em>good</em> thing. If anyone deserves a day or two off, you do. You need time to be yourself again, no matter how strong your Occlumency walls are." She reached up to brush her fingers along his jaw. "I was beside you the entire night, Draco. I was with you for every nightmare. You didn't get much sleep. Please go home and rest."</p><p>He watched her for a moment, then sighed. "One day. Maybe two. And then I'm back on the case. I do still have a killer to find."</p><p>"And you will." She took hold of his collar, pulling him down. "Now kiss your girlfriend goodbye, Malfoy. You always do, remember?"</p><p>"Granger, I'll never forget that." Bending to her, he kissed her until her fingers shook on his collar. When he straightened up, he cupped her cheek and gave her a quick flash of a smile. </p><p>She nodded, eyes wide, and took a step back, watching him as he disappeared in the green flames of the Floo.</p>
<hr/><p>Draco stood on the cracked pavement outside what appeared, to Muggle eyes, to be an abandoned brick factory in Hipperholme.  He smoked, eyes narrowed against the wind, as he looked over the graffiti and grime that covered the walls. If the outside of the building was any reflection of the inside, he expected he'd be more likely to find what he needed by burning the place down and sifting through the ashes than by looking through files and reports. </p><p>He drew his pocket watch and checked the time. Cotterill and Choudhury were due to join him in a few minutes. Their work so far had been excellent, but he wanted to watch them in the field. He had plans to recommend both for advanced training, based on what he'd seen from them so far, but needed a few more direct observations. Harry's insistence that Draco stay out of the office for the remainder of the week seemed the best opportunity for him to observe his trainees.</p><p>The soft pops of Apparition sounded behind him and Draco turned, tucking his pocketwatch away. Three women stood in a row, Cotterill and Choudhury both nearly six inches taller than the third.</p><p>"Hermione," Draco said, lifting a brow in surprise. "What are you doing here?"</p><p>"Naseem said you'd be going through files," she said. She raised her chin and gave him a steady look. "Sounds like something that might need an expert archivist. Someone with a lot of experience in organizing paperwork and an extensive knowledge of charms specific to files and reports."</p><p>Draco watched her for a moment. He suspected she'd decided to come along in order to check up on him. Not that he'd turn down her help, he admitted, even if she had an ulterior motive. It would make the job go faster and the less time he had to spend up north, the better.</p><p>He blew a smoke ring, flicking the end of his cigarette into a pile of rocks, and shrugged one shoulder. "All right, then. Welcome to the team." </p><p>"Nicola, come look at this," Choudhury said brightly. She locked her arm through Cotterill's and tugged her away.</p><p>Draco glanced over his shoulder to see his trainees standing at a plausible distance, ostentatiously examining the graffiti on a wall. He stifled a grin and bent his head as Hermione walked up to him. </p><p>She went up on her toes to give him a quick kiss. "Aurors are supposed to be less obvious, aren't they?" she said with a laugh. </p><p>"Well, they're trainees," he said. "I'll give them a refresher on stealth." He slid his fingers into her hair and held her for a longer kiss, one that left her lashes fluttering when he straightened up.</p><p>"You didn't have to come along to check on me," he said, hiding a smile and pretending not to notice how she clung to his suit jacket to find her balance. "I took two days off. Took long walks around the grounds, got some sleep. I'm ready to get back to work."</p><p>She searched his eyes. "I don't entirely believe you."</p><p>"I'm not ready but I'm <em>going</em> to get back to work, how's that?"</p><p>She huffed at him. "Malfoy."</p><p>Draco laughed under his breath. "If you're still annoyed with me after the end of the day, I'll take you to a nice dinner and you can give me nasty looks over the entree. Now come on," he said, squeezing her shoulders before releasing her and stepping back. "Let's not force my trainees to pretend to appreciate badly-spelled graffiti for any longer."</p><p>"We can go look at the burned-out lorry if you want a few more minutes," Cotterill called to him.</p><p>"We're on the clock, Trainee Cotterill," Draco said. "Hop to it. Around the back, let's go."</p><p>Giggling, Cotterill and Choudhury led the way to the rear of the building. They stepped over a break in a stone wall and pushed aside the dangling strands of ivy that had colonized the building's facade to step into a small reception room. </p><p>Draco knotted his brows, rubbing his forehead as a pain immediately set up in his sinuses. The place smelled of neglect, with dust, mold, and mice forming the top notes. He tried to breathe shallowly but was forced to retreat to the door for fresh air. "Find whoever's in charge here," he told Choudhury when she followed him outside. "And tell them to hit that room with every scouring charm they know until I can breathe or they run out of magic and die, whichever comes first."</p><p>"We can do it," she said.</p><p>Draco shook his head, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. "Don't you dare. You're my team, not a cleaning crew. It's their responsibility and they'll handle it or else." He retreated further, backing up to take a seat on the stone wall.</p><p>One foot propped on a loose stone, he snapped his fingers to light a cigarette and watched the door. His hearing wasn't nearly as good as his sense of smell, but it didn't need to be. Even at that distance, he could hear a couple of angry male voices and two determined female voices. He straightened the knot of his tie, lifting a brow as Hermione walked out of the building. </p><p>She leaned against the wall beside him. "Naseem and Nicola have six brothers between them," she said, examining her nails. "They have this well in hand."</p><p>Draco switched his cigarette to the opposite side and set his hand on the wall behind her in lieu of putting his arm around her. "Important part of their training," he said. "Learning how to prod a plod. Very crucial in the development of an Auror."</p><p>"I can already tell their files are going to be a mess." Hermione sighed, shuffling closer to his leg. "We're going to be here for hours at the very least."</p><p>"And I'm absolutely delighted by that, as I'm sure you can tell." Draco blew a smoke ring at the sky. He glanced down through his lashes, then curled his hand around her side and pulled her to lean against him. "I wasn't joking earlier," he said. "About dinner. Maybe not today, but I want to take you out."</p><p>Hermione twisted the end of one of her curls around her finger. "An actual date?" she said.</p><p>"With my actual girlfriend. We did decide on that, yes?" Draco hesitated, thinking back over the conversation they'd had a couple of days previous. "Well, I decided," he said. "Said I was done pretending. You never outright agreed."</p><p>She turned to face him, standing between his feet with her fingers tracing along his lapels and over the faint silver lines in his black tie. "I wanted to. I meant to. But I didn't think it was entirely right to make that decision then." She looked at him, still a couple of inches shorter even while he was sitting on the wall. "You'd had a very rough day before and the night wasn't much better. I wanted to be sure you'd had enough time to think about it. To be sure you weren't being impulsive."</p><p>"Granger, I've never been impulsive about relationships. I <em>don't</em> do casual sex."</p><p>She raised her brows, tipping her head. "The club seems rather casual."</p><p>He pressed his lips together, then straightened up to finish his cigarette, using that as an excuse not to look directly at her. It was enough that he could feel his cheeks heating up; he didn't want to see her eyes when he spoke, in case he saw something he didn't like. "That's undercover work. It's a role, not <em>me</em>. And I wouldn't have agreed to it if–" He flicked the end of his cigarette into a rusted bucket near the wall. "The truth is, Hermione. That–"</p><p>Clearing his throat, he looked over her head, both hands locked around the stones of the wall. "If it had been any other woman, I'd never have left the main hall. I doubt I'd have let her get as far as we did the first night."</p><p>She smoothed his tie down, fingers resting on his chest. "You're saying–"</p><p>"I'm saying I haven't been pretending since the first time you kissed me. In the archives, at your desk."</p><p>Hermione was silent for long enough that he risked looking down at her. She was staring at him, her mouth slightly open, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright. Slowly, she slid her hands up his chest to lace her fingers over the back of his neck. "Draco," she said. "That's not the first time I kissed you."</p><p>Draco heard his heartbeat thrum in his ears. He flexed both hands on the stone wall, fingers tight around the edge. "At your desk," he said. "That was–"</p><p>"You know you remember. Harry's wedding." She dragged her fingers down his nape and around his throat to tap on the knot of his tie. "After we danced. I had to leave early and you walked me back to the table. I said my goodbyes and you were the last one."</p><p>
  <i>Tipsy, giddy with drink, she's laughing, and her lips move across his mouth. She's gone through the crowd before he can blink</i>
</p><p>Draco wet his lips. "You'd been drinking. I remember, but I–" He watched her eyes. "I didn't think you did."</p><p>"You never said anything so I didn't either. I thought you <em>really</em> weren't interested. You'd never responded when I tried flirting with you before–maybe I'm not very good at it, I don't do it a lot. But you'd been an Auror for two years at that point and you were coming into the archives a couple of times a week and I thought– When we danced at Kjeldsen's wedding, I thought there was a spark between us. But there was absolutely <em>nothing</em> from you, you never made a move, so I took a chance at Harry's wedding and then you still didn't–" </p><p>Draco laughed. He couldn't help himself. He pulled her into a hug, dipping to rest his chin on the top of her head. "Granger, it took everything I had not to chase you out of that wedding and give you a proper kiss. I thought you'd lost track of yourself from the champagne and I never brought it up because I didn't think you meant it. Thinking about doing it again was half the reason I've been coming over to your place twice a month since those two got married. Pansy's a good chef but her cooking isn't what brings me there." </p><p>He laughed again, a little ruefully. "And I've been coming down to the archives for longer than that because–well. It certainly wasn't because I needed to refresh my memory. It was because you worked there. But you never made a move, so I figured it was best not to. Even after Parks and Potter got married. That kiss–I thought you'd been drinking and didn't remember so I wasn't going to go where I wasn't welcome."</p><p>Hermione sagged against him. "Are you telling me that we both, for months now, have been wishing the other one would <em>catch on</em>?"</p><p>"Looks that way." Draco twisted his fingers in her hair, shaking his head. There was more to it on his part, far more than just attraction and desire, but he stuffed that deep into his mind. The change from an imaginary, false partnership for an undercover assignment to a real, mutual relationship was beyond what he'd hoped he could have.</p><p>No, he thought. Not what he'd hoped. He'd imagined so much, dreamt of an entire life with her. But what he had now was beyond what he'd <em>believed</em> was possible. </p><p>He tipped her head up and brushed his thumb across her mouth. "So now that we've established that we've been idiots for better than a year, shall we stop being idiots and start officially dating? You and me, together.  A couple. For real."</p><p>"Yes," she said. She pursed her lips against his thumb, catching his hand to drag kisses over his knuckles and the tops of his rings. Working her way down his fingers, she drew the tip of one into her mouth and sucked on it with her eyes locked on his.</p><p>Draco caught his breath, his mind bringing forward the memory of her tongue licking her slick, dripping arousal off his fingers. He stifled a grunt, heart racing. "Granger," he murmured. "Now is really not the time for this."</p><p>She kept her eyes on his and drew his finger in deeper, closing her lips around his signet ring as she swallowed.</p><p>"Oh, fuck me," Draco muttered.</p><p>Hermione pulled his hand away from her mouth with a happy hum. She went up on her toes to kiss the point of his chin, both hands on his thighs for balance. "Now that we're both clear that we want to," she said. "And that we've wanted to for a good long time? I intend to. You did promise me 'soon' after all."</p><p>Draco shoved both hands into her hair and tipped her head back. He kissed her, deep and hungry and demanding. Hermione pressed back with equal fervor, her hands tight on his thighs. Draco wanted to kiss her until neither one of them could breathe, to swing her up into his arms and Apparate into a bed that very second. </p><p>He broke the kiss with a reluctant growl. He knew he was flushed, knew his eyes had gone dark. He could see the same reaction in Hermione's face. "This is definitely not pretending," he said.</p><p>Hermione touched her mouth, nodding. "Not pretending," she echoed. "Not any more."</p><p>He pulled his hands free of her hair, delicately untangling one curl from around his ring. Over her head, he caught movement, and he glanced up to see the dangling ivy move and Choudhury peek through it. She mouthed 'are you done?' at him, tapping an imaginary watch on her wrist, and he grinned as he gestured to her.</p><p>A very short, older man in an ill-fitting uniform shoved past Choudhury, stomping across the brown grass to huff up to the wall, his overlarge mustache fluttering with each breath. "I don't know who you think you are, but you don't go giving orders in my house, pal," the man said. "I could–"</p><p>He cut off, looking up and <em>up</em> as Draco got to his feet. "Um. You–who?"</p><p>Draco hid a smile and deliberately stood with his straightest posture, staring down the length of his nose at the man. "Auror Draco Malfoy, AIC on the rope killer investigation. And I will give any damned order I please–" he glanced at the man's tarnished badge. "Auror <em>Trainee</em> Taylor. Seriously? At your age? What, couldn't pass the exams?"</p><p>"Malfoy!" Hermione poked him in the side. Draco raised a brow at her and she stomped away, muttering to herself, to join Choudhury and Cotterill at the door.</p><p>Taylor turned a brilliant purple and spluttered. "The wife lost my other badge and I don't have to explain myself to some posh git."</p><p>"Perhaps not, but you do have to explain yourself to Head Auror Potter, who is going to be getting a very thorough report once I'm done here."</p><p>Taylor took a step back, his eyes going wide. He wiped his mustache with both hands. "Ah, hell. Inspection? Is this a bloody <em>inspection</em>? Nobody said it was an inspection! We're supposed to get notice on that!"</p><p>Draco eyed the man, noting the sweat beading on his forehead and the sudden rank smell coming from him. "Inspection," Draco said in his best drawl, leaning heavily on his Wiltshire upbringing for his vowels. He walked toward the door, raising his voice to carry into the building. "Rather. One would <em>hardly</em> announce a surprise inspection, now would one? Run along and fetch the other lads, would you? Line them up. There's a good chap."</p><p>Taylor stalked past him, swearing and wiping his forehead. "Atkinson! Shaw! Green!"</p><p>Draco stopped next to Choudhury, who was almost choking in efforts not to laugh. "I say," Draco said, without changing his tone. "He's a beastly fellow, isn't he? Frightful bore." For effect, he pretended to flick a piece of lint off his sleeve.</p><p>Choudhury and Cotterill clung to each other, howling. Hermione folded her arms and stared at him. "Malfoy," she said. "Are you done?"</p><p>Draco dropped the more extreme edges of his accent. "Oh, come on, Granger. He had it coming. He called me a posh git."</p><p>"You <em>are</em> a posh git."</p><p>"She's got you there, boss," Cotterill said. She grinned at him. "Or should that be guv?"</p><p>Draco rolled his eyes. "You know I don't like either of those."</p><p>"Yes, sir," they said in chorus, still laughing.</p><p>"Either of you remember procedure on uniform inspection?" Draco said. "I'd be willing to bet I can find a minimum of twenty demerits. Starting with five for not having the full kit. Taylor's already lost two for wearing an incorrect badge."</p><p>"Each or total?" Choudhury said, eyes narrowing. </p><p>"I'll give you total," Draco said. "Make it fifty, though. Fifty or more in the whole group and I'll cover lunch tabs for the next two months."</p><p>Cotterill and Choudhury exchanged looks with each other, then scrambled into the building.</p><p>"You <em>know</em> they're not going to have their uniforms in order," Hermione said. "And you're one to talk in any case. You wear suits every day. I don't think I've ever seen you in uniform at the office."</p><p>"Ah, but regulations state that I have to have it available. It's in my locker." Draco winked at her. "Tell you what, I'll wear it for you if you want."</p><p>Hermione stepped up close to him, wrapping her hands around his tie and tugging him down. "Yes, <em>Sir</em>," she said.</p><p>Draco glanced at the doorway, growled under his breath, and shook his head against the temptation to bend down and scrape his teeth over the side of her neck. "Come on," he said, putting his hand between her shoulders to guide her into the building. "Let's watch my trainees win a lot of lunches."</p>
<hr/><p>Hermione set the coffee mug down on the table in front of Draco, squeezing his shoulder when he groaned and sat up. His jacket was crumpled in an empty chair, his tie was missing, his sleeves were rolled to his elbows, and his collar was unfastened. Even the leather harness he wore for his wand looked rumpled. He'd clearly run his fingers through his hair dozens of times and he'd long since resorted to wearing his glasses.</p><p>She moved behind his chair, pushed his collar down, and rubbed her thumbs up the back of his neck. "Ten hours, Draco," she said. "You've been at it for ten hours. Cotterill and Choudhury went home two hours ago. You can take a break."</p><p>"This place is a disaster," Draco said. "It's not one or two of the Aurors here, Hermione. It's <em>all</em> of them. They're completely incompetent and apparently have been for months. I can't believe Potter's never noticed."</p><p>Hermione ran her thumbs up to his hairline and down to the knob of his spine, massaging his neck in long, gentle strokes. "You know he hates paperwork. He's probably been grateful that they haven't been sending reports he has to read and sign."</p><p>"Their inspector went on maternity leave and they just–" Draco made a helpless gesture at the stacks of folders and boxes piled around the cramped conference room. "Stopped. They stopped doing anything. Filling out reports, filing any damn thing."</p><p>He leaned forward, pulling away from her hands, and grabbed two folders off the closest stack. Slumping back into the chair, he looked at her and held the folders up. "Look at this. Madison Riley and Ellen Donaldson. Vics one and two. Madison's boyfriend, Darren Edwards, was meeting her after her shift at the restaurant and she never showed. She hadn't been to work at all. He waited a day, still hadn't heard from her, and filed a report. Ellen's boyfriend, Rhys Thomas, bought her a spa weekend. He didn't find out until Monday that she hadn't used it, and he reported her missing as soon as he knew."</p><p>Draco tossed the folders onto the table and growled, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. "They were both reported. And the idiots in this station never sent the fucking reports to home office."</p><p>Hermione set her hands on his shoulders, kneading around the straps of his wand harness. "Nicola and Naseem got the identifications on both of them, Draco. We know who they are and they've been returned to their families. Gwen Morgan, too."</p><p>"And we still have two unidentified." He made a vulgar gesture at the stacks of paper. "And they could both be in here. Vic three might not be, I'll give them that, since she was found in Wales, but vic five is, I guarantee. The one in Morthen. Somewhere in this mess is her missing persons report."</p><p>Hermione bent over and kissed the top of his head, then circled around him to lean against the table, arms folded. "Are you going to let me do what I do best now? I'm an archivist, Draco. I specialize in organizing things so they can be found again. I could have had at least half of this done if you hadn't insisted on handling most of it yourself."</p><p>He rubbed his jaw and looked at her, his expression tight with too many hours reading bad handwriting on smudged forms. She resisted the temptation to smooth out the lines around his eyes with her fingers. Or with her lips, she admitted to herself. </p><p>Draco rolled his shoulders, wincing when one popped loud enough to echo in the room. "You're right," he said as he pushed his chair back. "You're an expert and I should have let you do what you do best. It's all yours. Do what you can, Granger. I'm taking a break."</p><p>He stood and moved away from the table, both arms held high as he stretched. Hermione sank her teeth into her lip and watched him, his tattoos moving around his forearms and his trousers tightening across his arse. When he left the room, it was an effort to concentrate on the stacks of papers on the table. </p><p>She used one folder to fan herself for a minute as she looked over the boxes and files. Draco was right, it was a disaster, but she could at least make a start. She set the folder down, cracked her knuckles, and drew her wand.</p><p>Thirty minutes later, she was picking small scraps of paper out of her hair and looking at the files with pure hatred. "I'll set all of you on fire," she said to one box. "See if I don't."</p><p>"Talking to yourself again," Draco's deep voice said behind her. "Still a dangerous sign." He set both hands on her shoulders and brushed his thumbs down her spine. </p><p>She leaned back against him and dropped her head forward in a silent request that Draco obeyed, rubbing her neck. "I did make progress," she said. "I got everything separated by type, according to form number. All the 1404s, all the 1282-Gs, and so on. Harry's going to have to have the audit team in here. There's an excessive number of 450-Cs."</p><p>"Petty cash requests? Not surprised. At least one of them is skimming the facilities budget, as well." He ran his fingers into her hair and started to massage her scalp.</p><p>Hermione let out a little moan and braced her hands on the table, trusting in the solid bulk of Draco behind her to keep from tipping over backwards. "That," she said, eyes drifting shut. "Yes. They're, um. They're skimming. And I'm almost positive that someone is on the payroll who doesn't even exist. There's a request for holiday leave from a name that isn't in the staff book."</p><p>"Bailey Bean?" Draco chuckled. "You can let that one go. That's the station mascot. There's a water bowl in the men's lav with that name on it and photos of a golden retriever all over the inspector's office. Think she took him with her when she went on leave."</p><p>"Mmm, okay." Hermione ordered herself to straighten up and focus on the work she'd done so far, not on the pressure of Draco's hands. She already knew how strong he was. She had to concentrate.</p><p>No matter how impossible it seemed when he was giving her a massage.</p><p>She leaned her head back to rest on his sternum. "On the plus side, I did manage to get a geographical charm working." She pointed her wand and called over an expanding folder. "Here's everything that mentions incidents in Morthen."</p><p>Draco wrapped one arm around her shoulders and shuffled through the files inside the folder as she held it up. "Good work," he said, his voice rumbling straight into her skull through his chest. "And–Yes. Here it is."</p><p>He drew one report out and growled. "Gemma Parker, twenty-four, Muggle-born." Swearing under his breath, he released Hermione and dropped into his chair. He swung his legs up, kicked a box aside, and thumped his heels onto the table to read the report. "Landscaper, surgical scar on her back. Photo's a match for the cadaver in Townie's morgue. Reported missing three days before her body was found. Report filed by her husband, Andrew, also twenty-four, after she failed to return from a conference on topiary design."</p><p>He tossed the report on the table, followed by his glasses, and leaned back in the chair. Both hands over his face, he swore viciously.</p><p>Hermione brushed his fringe back. "You can tell her husband now," she said, trying to find something positive in this. "You can bring some closure to him. That's a good thing, Draco."</p><p>He dropped his hands to stare at her. "Tell the man that his wife's dead? That's not a good thing." He gestured around at the files and boxes. "And if this wasn't such a mess, I might have been able to stop this killer before we ever got to a fifth victim. Now I don't believe that I'll stop him before we have a sixth. Maybe not before a seventh."</p><p>"You'll stop him. You'll have him in Azkaban before you can blink. I know you will." Hermione cupped his cheeks and leaned over him for a kiss. "Draco, you're one of the best Aurors in the country. You'll find him."</p><p>He made a face before returning her kiss, his eyes drifting closed. Hermione swept the point of her tongue across his lower lip and he made that soft, throaty noise that set off sparks in her brain. She slipped one hand into his hair, the other dragging down his throat to pull apart the edges of his collar and slide under his shirt.</p><p>Draco set his hand over hers with a quiet warning hum and pulled away, shaking his head. "Not here," he said. "We get interrupted enough by people we know won't cause trouble."</p><p>She rested her forehead against his, staring into his eyes, already darkened to charcoal, and reluctantly gave a nod. "You're right. We're still working."</p><p>Straightening up, she found the Parker file, then duplicated the pages and photograph with a flick of her wand and tucked the fresh copy into her leather portfolio for safekeeping. She handed Draco his glasses as Taylor stepped into the room, uniform much neater than it had been when they arrived that morning.</p><p>"Reporting information located, <em>sir</em>," Taylor snapped. "Last files retrieved from storage, <em>sir</em>. Pardon the dust, <em>sir</em>." He dropped a filthy box onto the table, face twisting when Draco turned away to sneeze. </p><p>Draco pinched his nose shut and waved Taylor back. "Fine," he said. "Thank you. That's the last one?"</p><p>"Last box in the station, <em>sir</em>. Might smell a bit of wee, <em>sir</em>. Think the foxes have been in the shed, <em>sir</em>," Taylor said. "Now if it's all jolly good with you, <em>sir</em>, me and the lads'll be off. Night watch is on the desk out front and there's nowt wrong with her uniform, <em>sir</em>."</p><p>Hermione expected Draco to put on his posh airs again, but when she looked at him, his back was stiff, his fingers curled around the edge of the table. She opened a folder to cover her movement as she brushed his hand, hiding a wince at the slight chill in his fingers. "Thank you, Taylor," she said, pushing the box to the far end of the table and casting a scouring charm over it. "That will be all."</p><p>"Toodle pip and cheerio," Taylor said with a sneer, turning on his heel to stomp out. "Posh bastard," Hermione heard him grumble to someone outside the door before he slammed it behind him.</p><p>She immediately turned to Draco, her fingers falling on the back of his neck. "Are you with me?"</p><p>He nodded. "Just a quick one," he said. "Foxes. We had a family of them on the grounds of the Manor for years." He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. "Until Nagini spotted them."</p><p>Hermione waited until he pulled her hand away to kiss her knuckles, his fingers warming. Reassured that he was fully in the present moment, she squeezed his hand and released him to open the box. "Another point in the unprofessional column," she said, lifting her brows. "These aren't even labeled. They're all dated–" She rifled through the folders. "Ah. Well, maybe there's a good reason why these weren't filed correctly. They're all dated May-June 1998."</p><p>"End of the war," he said. "There were a dozen Death Eaters to try and ship off. Parties to throw afterward. Grand time for all. I can see why filing fell to the wayside." </p><p>Hermione didn't respond, though the bitterness in his voice made her chest hurt. Draco took the stack she handed him, his expression almost dismayed by the dirt ground into the folders. He cast several charms over the folders and papers inside them. Slipping his glasses on, he started to read.</p><p>Hermione skimmed several reports, flicking her wand to send each one off to the proper stack as she determined where it should go. Draco continued reading, his eyes flicking back and forth along the lines. She knew he was memorizing everything he read, the details slotting into place in his mind.</p><p>One file stopped her, something tickling at her brain, and she huffed as she read it over again. If she had Draco's memory, she'd know what she'd noticed. Nothing was sticking out, and she cleared her throat to get Draco's attention. "Help me out," she said. "There's something about this."</p><p>She held up the file. "An assault outside a pub in Glossop, 15 June. Three involved. A couple were attacked as they were leaving their engagement party. The assailant shouted 'if the Dark Lord was still around, you wouldn't dare flaunt your filth in front of pure, decent people' before proceeding to stab the woman in the arm. Her fiance was injured in attempts to defend her. The couple, John Allen and Ava Kelly, were taken to the nearest shelter to await the arrival of Healers. The assailant, Edward Jessup, was Stunned by a bystander and taken into custody when Auror Fiona Todd arrived."</p><p>"Wait," Draco said sharply. "Say that again."</p><p>"Which part?"</p><p>"The assailant. His name."</p><p>"Edward Jessup," Hermione read from the file. "That's what sounds familiar to me! I know that name, but I can't place it."</p><p>Draco's face hardened. "I can."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry slumped over the conference table, glasses abandoned in front of him. "I'm going to quit my job," he whinged into a stack of leave requests. "I don't want to be Head Auror any more. Nobody told me when I took the position that it would be paperwork and meetings."</p><p>"You've already saved the world, Harry," Hermione said, gripping the back of his collar to lift him up and pull the leave forms from under his head. "Sorry, but now it's time for reports and filing."</p><p>"Any other Dark Lords running around?" he mumbled when she set his head back on the table. "I'll even take a small-time one. Somebody wanting to gain mastery and dominion over just one county, maybe? Shropshire. Let's have a Dark Lord in Shropshire. I'll handle it. I have experience."</p><p>Hermione flicked her wand and organized another set of folders, the pile rising up in a manilla whirlwind before settling onto the table, neatly stacked and chronologically ordered. "We all had to grow up eventually," she said. "Find careers, get married, have babies. It's what people do, right?"</p><p>Babies with grey eyes, a deep part of her mind told her. Pointed noses. Devastating dimpled smiles. A tiny infant in her arms, his warm weight against her chest as she stroked her fingers through soft blond hair and helped him wave his little fist at a tall distant figure on a broom. <i>Watch Daddy</i>, she imagined herself saying. <i>Watch him get the Snitch before Uncle Harry.</i></p><p>She shook those thoughts away. Draco was attracted to her. He wanted her. That's what she'd been after all along, and she couldn't think about more, not when it had taken them both so long to get to this point. </p><p>Flicking her wand again, she called an empty box over and settled the folders into it. "At least you're Head Auror and not Head Auditor. You do occasionally get to go on missions, not add up figures all day. That fellow looks stressed. And like he doesn't get much sun."</p><p>"Speaking of pale and stressed men." Harry sat up and scrubbed his hands through his hair until it stuck out every direction. "How's Malfoy?"</p><p>She made a face at him, disappointed that he still had his glasses off and couldn't see it. "He's fine."</p><p>"Doubt that."</p><p>Hermione sighed. "No, he's not fine. He shouldn't have come back to work yesterday. He shouldn't be out canvassing with his trainees today. He <em>should</em> be in hospital or at home, at the very least." She smoothed both hands over a folder, staring down at it. It took her a minute to find her voice. "I know you're going to tell me that if Draco wanted me to know what happened during that farce of an inquiry, he would tell me himself."</p><p>Harry slipped his glasses on and nodded.</p><p>"He was—He was essentially attacked. You don't have to confirm, Harry, I could see that well enough for myself. The way he was reacting, the things he said that night. How <em>desperate</em> he was for—For <em>safety</em>. For someone he knew wouldn't hurt him." Her chest tightened and she swallowed down the knot in her throat. "But he's not dealing with it. He's walled it all off and shut it away somewhere in his mind with everything else he doesn't want to think about."</p><p>In the year since Harry and Pansy had been married, Draco had been coming over to dinner twice a month. And not once had she ever noticed the way he was treated. He didn't talk about it, never acted bothered by it. Now, since they'd taken on this case together, she'd witnessed some of his life. The maitre d' who spat on him at the restaurant, the questions from Madame Berkley about her willingness to be with him, the Unspeakable's invasion of his mind. She'd wondered for a long time why a man with his looks and his money seemed to have less social life than a hermit. Other than the dinners at the townhouse and the evenings he spent with Blaise and Pansy, Hermione suspected he didn't go anywhere at all. He stayed away from people, unless it was for work.</p><p>Now she wondered if all of that was to protect himself. To stay as safe as he could. To fend off the hate-filled looks and attacks. It was a horrible, lonely way to live. It was barely <em>living</em> at all. Hermione's heart pounded against her ears and she slapped the folder on the table. "He should be home. Safe. Recovering from a violent assault, not asking me on a date or taking Naseem and Nicola out to canvas for more information on the victims. He's a victim!"</p><p>Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. "And if you ever get him to admit that, I'll personally put you in for an Order of Merlin, first class. Frankly, the shit he's gone through, I'm surprised he's managed to avoid insanity or suicide. He survives and he fights to keep surviving. If it means he walls things off, at least he's alive. This is how he copes."</p><p>"And what happens when he finally can't cope any longer, Harry? What happens when Draco's walls all break and he <em>can't</em> cope with it?" She picked up the folder and meticulously flipped through the vertical files to slip it into the proper place, focusing on that to keep herself steady. "What happens when <em>he</em> finally breaks?"</p><p>She remembered how cold he'd been that night after his inquiry, how he'd been lost in his own mind. All she could think to do was hold on to him, remind him over and over again that he was safe. </p><p>It hadn't felt like enough. He'd come back over the course of the night, rebuilt his walls and come back to her, but she'd felt so helpless. Logic and organization meant nothing, <em>did</em> nothing, when the man she loved was shuddering with fear and pain in her arms. </p><p>Hermione closed the box, patting the lid into place as she took a deep breath and gathered herself. When she looked at Harry, he was watching her, two thin lines between his brows. </p><p>"I don't know, Hermione. Hope he feels—" He sighed as he smoothed his hair down. "Hope he feels like there's still some hope. Like somebody cares about him enough to make it worth the effort to keep going."</p><p>"I'm here for him," she said. She gave Harry a tight smile. "And I absolutely do care about him. He can rely on that. I'm his girlfriend. We just started dating."</p><p>Harry blinked at her. "As far as I know, you've been dating for over a year." His eyes widened as she flapped one hand at him, spinning the air in a 'keep going' gesture. "Wait," he said. "You mean now you're actually—Hermione, what happened to this being just an assignment?"</p><p>"Things ... happened."</p><p>Harry snorted. "Yeah. I heard at least one of those things a few days ago."</p><p>Hermione blushed hot and red. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I was going to cast a silencing charm but my wand was over—and then he was—and my knickers—with his <em>teeth</em>—and I couldn't think—"</p><p>Harry put both hands over his ears and hummed the Hogwarts school song. </p><p>Blush spreading down her throat, Hermione stammered into silence. She turned away from Harry and fussed with a stack of folders, rearranging their order. She'd set these ones aside on purpose. Something about them reminded her of the rope killer investigation, and she wanted to look at them more closely.</p><p>As Harry's song ground to an off-key halt, Hermione tipped her head, forgetting her embarrassment. The top file was at least twenty years old, and the papers inside the folder were faded and discolored, but as she peered at it, she picked out the words robbery and bespoke jeweler. It tickled at her mind. </p><p>She drummed her fingers on the table. There were several charms she could cast to make the papers more readable, but she wanted to do that in the archives, where she had a dry room and protective enclosure, as well as several custom-brewed potions to help with preservation. Keeping potential evidence intact was more important than her curiosity.</p><p>She put the folder in a box marked for transfer to the Ministry, adding it to the files on the three rope killer victims found in Yorkshire. She and Draco could go over them on Monday, she decided, along with whatever information he and the trainees found on their rounds.</p><p>"So you're dating now," Harry said, interrupting her thoughts.</p><p>"Hmm?" she glanced up, blinked at the empty chair, and turned to find Harry lurking over the tiny tea station they'd managed to cobble together for the audit team's later arrival. "What was that?"</p><p>"You and Malfoy," Harry said. "Actually dating now."</p><p>"Oh. Yes. He, um. He asked me to dinner on Sunday. Somewhere private he knows about. He was a little sparse on details." She joined Harry at the tea station and fixed herself a cup.  "Nothing's really changed, you know. Just a switch from pretending to not pretending." </p><p>Biting her lip, she smiled into her tea cup. "Turns out neither of us were pretending anyway. Found that out yesterday. Sort of a simultaneous confession."</p><p>"Oh, thank god," Harry muttered. "Watching you two try to keep acting like you weren't <em>really</em> enjoying yourselves was exhausting. We're just friends, Potter. It's just an assignment, Harry. I wanted to grab you both by the collar and smack your heads together." He poured sugar, extra sugar, and more sugar into his tea. "Though I would have to kick his legs out from under him first," he mused. "Or levitate you."</p><p>Hermione stared at him. "What are you talking about? You—you knew all along? Both of us?"</p><p>He gave her a long look. "You don't make Head Auror by being unobservant, Hermione. Of course I knew. Both of you. I was waiting for the two of you to figure it out. Finally tell him you're in love with him?"</p><p>"Oh. Well. Um." Hermione fussed with the sugar packets in their holder, straightening out their edges. "No. Not that. We're only at, um. Physical stage."</p><p>"No, no. Stop right there. That's all I need to know. No specific details, thank you."</p><p>"I wasn't going to give you any! Honestly, Harry, I'm embarrassed enough that you heard us. That won't be happening again."</p><p>Harry snickered.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"That won't be happening again? Come off it."</p><p>Hermione tried not to laugh, but it bubbled out of her despite her efforts. "All right, <em>that</em> will be happening again. But not at home. We'll go somewhere else. Draco's suite at the club has a nice bed that we've barely used."</p><p>Harry started pushing aside cream pitchers and spoon holders.</p><p>Hermione knotted her brows. "What are you doing?"</p><p>"Looking for a cactus," Harry muttered. He looked up and shook his head. "Never mind. We need to get back to these files. I want to be out of here and off to the Ministry before the audit team returns or they'll start asking me questions about my paperclip usage and why the Auror Corps has such a big laundry budget. No matter how often I tell them, we get dirty, sometimes you have to tackle a suspect and you end up rolling down a muddy hillside into a sheep paddock, but no, still they want to know why we're spending so much on cleaning and—"</p><p>Hermione tuned out the familiar rant and returned her attention to the boxes. She wanted to get back to the Ministry soon, as well. That faded report on the bespoke jeweler had something about it and she needed to know what.</p>
<hr/><p>Early Saturday afternoon, Draco stood outside the crooked door of a cheap flat buried in the depths of the wizarding community of Leeds. He flicked his wand and the door rattled with a one-two-three pounding noise. A minute later, Geoffrey opened the door and narrowed his eyes. The dark hairpiece he wore at the club was gone, displaying a large bald circle on the top of his head. "Malfoy," he said, his polished accent non-existent. "What you want?"</p><p>"Always a delight to hear such cheerful greetings, as a member of law enforcement," Draco said, lifting a brow.</p><p>"Oh, 'scuse me, I misspoke," Geoffrey said. "I meant what you want, bizzy?"</p><p>"May I come in?" Draco said blandly.</p><p>"No." Geoffrey started to slam the door, stopped as Draco's forearm and fist smacked against it.</p><p>He leaned over Geoffrey, eyes locked. "Oh, excuse me," he said. "I also misspoke." He pulled his jacket lapel aside, showing his badge in its place on his wand harness. "I meant thank you for inviting me into your flat, and do step aside. Time's come for a songbird to sing, no matter what name he's going by these days. Edward Jessup, Arthur Frith, Thomas Coleman, Geoffrey Barrington. So many choices."</p><p>Geoffrey gave him a nasty look but stepped back, into the tiny flat. "In, then."</p><p>Draco smiled tightly, ducked his head under the door, and closed it behind him. A broken-down sofa, stuffing coming through the arms, lurked under nicotine-stained walls. Battered ashtrays were scattered on every surface, cheap roll-ups mounded high. </p><p>Messy stacks of newspapers, some bundled in twine, were piled along one wall beneath a battered dartboard. An overstuffed folder spilled cut-out articles onto the floor, gossip columns and photos of society events, engagement announcements circled in red ink. </p><p>A framed photo of a woman in a red dress hung from a silver chain next to the dartboard, a withered rose petal stuck into the frame. Draco raised a brow, his attention drawn to the faded paper pinned to the dartboard. Even at a distance, he could see that it was Harry and Pansy's wedding announcement and photo on the front page of the <i>Daily Prophet</i> from the previous year, and that Harry's face had been scratched out with a knife.</p><p>"Don't know nothin'," Geoffrey said, shuffling behind a high counter and fussing behind it.</p><p>Draco drew his wand, crossing his arms to tap it against his shoulder. "I'd keep my hands where the nice and occasionally twitchy Auror can see them, if I were you."</p><p>Geoffrey lifted both hands above the counter, palms out. "Say your piece and piss off, pasty twat."</p><p>Draco tensed his jaw, staring at Geoffrey. "You lick Madame's arse with that mouth?"</p><p>"Madame don't give a fuck what I says off-duty. I treat everyone the same on the clock and in the house but this is my place. <em>My</em> house. And I don't like blood traitors gettin' their filth everywhere."</p><p>Draco fought down the urge to hex the man, just for the hell of it. He knew plenty of purebloods, upper and lower class alike, thought the same of him. First he had testified against people who'd fought for the Dark Lord, his own father included. Then he'd joined MLE, hunting Dark wizards, many of whom he knew personally. Now he was dating Hermione, a Muggle-born, and had been for more than a year as far as anyone else knew. Blood traitor certainly qualified.</p><p>"I was surprised to see you working at the house," Draco said, running one finger along the back of a wooden chair. "And after I told my boss that she runs background checks. Does Madame know she has a snivelling little pickpocket on her staff?"</p><p>Geoffrey gave a nasty laugh. "Most folks there ain't got any pockets. On account of they ain't got any clothes. So she don't care. Don't snip the guests, Geoff, and it's a bonus in your Christmas pay packet. Been there two years, only got in trouble once, and nothin' since."</p><p>Draco examined the grime on his finger, contemplated wiping it off on the threadbare sofa against the wall, then reluctantly decided it would only transfer more dirt to his hand. He dug a handkerchief out of his pocket and carefully cleaned his finger, discarding the befouled handkerchief on the table. "And I imagine you've taken a close look at everyone who walks in the door," he said, watching Geoffrey through his peripheral vision. "Just in case someone recognizes you as a thief." </p><p>He looked straight at Geoffrey with a tight smile. "Someone else, that is."</p><p>"You caught me fair'n'square and I didn't even take the dosh, so don't know what the problem was."</p><p>"The problem was that you nearly stole from my friend. You're lucky you moved off when you spotted me. Might have been a trainee at the time but I did still have the authority to perform an arrest. Contemplated hauling you off to the Ministry just on principle, but I was leaving for Rome that night and didn't have the time."</p><p>Geoffrey turned and hawked something Draco was grateful he didn't see into the sink. "Which friend? Hard to tell with you. You always got the same kind of bird. Tiny brunettes, ain't it? Get your jollies breakin' in those little pussies."</p><p>Draco ground his jaw. "Watch yourself, Jessup."</p><p>"Oh, not <em>demure</em> enough for his nibs?" His voice shifted, taking on the accent he used at Chaswell House. "Do forgive me, Mister Malfoy. I should hate to offend the delicate sensibilities of a refined gentleman such as yourself."</p><p>Draco rolled his eyes. He flicked his wand at the rickety chair, cleaning it and simultaneously repairing the cracked leg and broken slats. He spun the chair backward and straddled it, arms folded over the back, wand slowly tapping on his elbow. "Right, I think that's enough. Let's get this over with, shall we? I have plans."</p><p>Geoffrey gave him one more glare. "Blood traitor."</p><p>"As you say. Now. If you've been at Chaswell House for two years, you should have a firm grasp on the regulars and who likes to play which games. I'm particularly interested in anyone who seems to be spending excessive time in the shibari rooms or anyone who experiments with asphyxiation. I need to know all new members in the past year, so you'll be getting that full list to me within the week. Additionally, I need to know if anyone has <em>stopped</em> their visits recently. Since February, let's say."</p><p>"You mean since a bizzy started gettin' his wand polished in our fine premises?" Geoffrey sniffed wetly. "Don't see why I gotta tell you anythin'."</p><p>"Because if you don't, I will have you hauled in for questioning on whatever charge I please and I will make certain that every last one of your cronies knows how helpful you've been, assisting MLE with its inquiries."</p><p>"You can't go grassin' me up! I ain't done nothin'."</p><p>"I knew half a dozen men in Azkaban who were exactly as innocent as you."</p><p>"Countin' yourself in that?"</p><p>Draco laughed. "No. I was absolutely guilty. Use of Unforgivables, attempted murder? Fair cop, I did it and I admitted my crimes. Possibly the only guilty man in the prison, if you asked the rest of the inmates." </p><p>"Ain't helpin' you."</p><p>"You will. Everyone knows I'm an Auror. I can't be seen asking questions at Chaswell House. Interrogating the other guests would be a bit odd, wouldn't you say? I've already received a couple of suspicious looks simply for being there, even with a demonstration of my intent to do nothing but play." The image of Hermione writhing in his arms, begging him to push his fingers deeper into her, flashed across his mind and he resolutely fought it back. He didn't have the time to indulge in that memory, as much as he would like to listen to her screaming his name over and over again. "You'll talk to the staff and you'll keep a sharp eye out yourself. You will keep very good track of the employees and the guests, and you will report your findings to me. If you don't, I will have you arrested."</p><p>"Can't arrest an innocent man, mud-fucker."</p><p>Draco held his breath as a flare of anger raced through him. He knew the term. Being a blood traitor could be repaired, forgiven. The other was tainted forever, cut off from business deals and social events. His father and his father's friends had never been shy about slinging that word around over port after a dinner party, deciding who deserved to be cut out of the group. Draco had laughed and nodded along the few times he'd been allowed to join the men. At the time, he'd wanted desperately to fit in and be accepted, to make his father proud.</p><p>Now, he'd had sex with Hermione twice, depending on the definition of sex. Beyond that, even if she didn't know, he was in love with her. He certainly qualified as both blood traitor and mud-fucker at this point. If there had been any of that group of men left alive or out of prison, he'd be shunned, if not killed, for what he'd done with her. </p><p>They could try. He'd fight for her, if it came to it. </p><p>Draco gathered his temper and kept his face blank. "I can arrest you for that alone," he said in a level tone. "It's considered inflammatory speech, Jessup, and if I'm not mistaken, that sort of behavior got you put in Azkaban once already. But I'll allow it for now. As you said, this is your house." </p><p>He tapped his wand on his arm. "However, did you consider what happens when you invite an Auror in to your home of your own free will? Anything I see is open for investigation. Anything at all."</p><p>He smiled. "There are all manner of laws still on the books, and I've read every last one of those books. I never forget anything, you know. An advisor to the Minister for Magic in the eighteenth century was instrumental in pushing a rather interesting law through. Apparently there was a particular sound that absolutely inflamed him." Draco's smile grew sharp. "Were you aware that it is illegal to <em>spit</em> in the presence of one, a representative of the Ministry, two, a pureblood, or three, anyone over six feet tall?"</p><p>Geoffrey's eyes widened and he glanced into the sink.</p><p>Draco twirled his wand through his fingers. "Isn't it a funny world? Just like that ancestor of mine, I'm all three. The law's never enforced and I've ignored it twice in the past couple of months. Perhaps I should stop letting it go. Set an example, as it were."</p><p>Geoffrey watched the twirling wand, the whites of his eyes showing as he took a shuddering breath. He drew himself up and jutted out his jaw. "You want my help? Forget that badge, Malfoy. We all know your sort. You get that fancy silver mask and you <em>make</em> me."</p><p>Draco inhaled slowly. He stood, setting the chair to one side. Three steps brought him into what passed for the kitchen. Geoffrey, despite his bravado, backed up until he was pressed to the icebox, his eyes flicking back and forth as he looked for an escape.</p><p>Draco put his wand away, reached out with both hands, curled his fists into Geoffrey's shirt, and picked the man off his feet. He had eight inches, twenty years, and forty pounds on Geoffrey, and held him dangling in the air like a freshly-picked Mandrake. "I would consider <em>making you</em>, Jessup," he said in a low growl. "I would indeed consider it. But you're going to assist me of your own volition, because you're happy to do a favor for me after Azkaban. We were there at the same time, after all, though you did get out a year earlier than I did."</p><p>He lifted Geoffrey to eye level. "We didn't get much in prison, did we? The bare minimum required by law, some months. And because of that, it was absolutely beyond the pale to steal from another inmate, but you did, at least three times that I know of. You were ultimately stupid enough to snip a guard and aren't you lucky that a poncy blond prick made a fine scapegoat. Seems a pickpocket isn't just good at taking things. Sometimes they're good at planting them too. A day after you got out, the guards tossed my cell and what a surprise. A rather nice pocketwatch, lying there under the mattress. Malfoy just couldn't help himself, could he? What a shame that a thief deserves a beating when the warden isn't around."</p><p>Draco shook Geoffrey, slamming his spine into the wall, hard enough to rattle the plates in the cupboard. "I took the fists meant for you, Jessup, and two days in the box with a broken nose. It's true, you know. You <em>can</em> still hear the Dementors screaming in there. It's the only thing you can hear." </p><p>He shook Geoffrey again and leaned in, nose to nose. "You sing for me or I'll personally see to it that you finally get what you have coming to you. I'm an Auror and you're a criminal. All I have to do is think of one reason, just one fucking reason, to put on the debrief form as to why a particular spell is on my wand and I'm in the clear for whatever goddamned thing I do to you. I have the authority to use <em>any</em> spell necessary to subdue a suspect and I'll make it look necessary if I have to. So unless you want to know exactly what I did behind that fancy silver mask, you're going to volunteer to be my snitch, aren't you?"</p><p>Geoffrey swallowed hard, then closed his eyes and nodded once.</p><p>"Say it." Draco smacked him into the wall one more time, something in the cupboard falling over with a crash.</p><p>"Fine, fine. Agreed. You'll get your reports."</p><p>"Good man," Draco said. He dropped Geoffrey into a huddle on the floor, stepping back and fixing his cuffs. "Delighted to have you aboard as a confidential informant," he added on his way to the door. He stopped and turned to face Geoffrey. "Oh, and do try to keep an eye on your comments to my girlfriend when we're at the club. 'People like you', Jessup? I heard you. I remember the things you said when we were in prison together and I don't care for that attitude."</p><p>"Used to be yours," Geoffrey muttered.</p><p>"I've changed. You, apparently, have not."</p><p>"Ain't never goin' to change enough to want a rank filthy cunt like your little who—" Geoffrey yelped as a blast of ice hit the floor directly between his splayed thighs.</p><p>Draco replaced his wand in the holster. "Do not ever refer to Hermione in such terms again. On or off-duty. You <em>will</em> treat her with respect, Jessup. Or I will defend her. Am I clear?"</p><p>Geoffrey sneered at him, face purple with anger. "Get out, mud-fucker. Next time, bring a warrant."</p>
<hr/><p>"Do you own <em>anything</em> that isn't black, white, or grey?" Blaise shouted from the depths of Draco's dressing room. "Oh, wait. A green tie. A <em>dark</em> green tie. Cover my eyes before I go blind from the burst of color!"</p><p>Draco, sprawled in a leather armchair by the fireplace, stretched his legs out and crossed his ankles. "When I said we needed to move our weekly night to Saturday, I didn't intend for you two to go through all of my clothes, you realize."</p><p>Pansy poked her head out of the dressing room. "No, darling. You said you needed to move our weekly night <em>again</em> and not because of work. Because you had, and I quote—"</p><p>"Must you quote?"</p><p>"An actual real date with Granger, Parks, have I gone insane, I haven't been on a real, not imaginary, not undercover, real date in more than three years."</p><p>"And I thought I had a perfect memory. Is it as irritating as you're being?"</p><p>Pansy continued as if she hadn't heard him. "And then you proceeded to ask for help without asking, in that charming yet frightfully vexing way of yours, and now here we are." She held up a black waistcoat. "Where's the suit that goes with this?"</p><p>"Jacket's getting repaired."</p><p>Pansy made a face and tossed the waistcoat onto a bench near the door before disappearing back into the dressing room.</p><p>"You don't have to pick out my clothes for me," Draco said, tucking a cigarette into the corner of his mouth to light with a snap of his fingers. A crystal ashtray hovered near his knee. "I am fully capable of dressing myself. I do it every day, as a matter of fact."</p><p>Blaise emerged with a dozen shirts on hangers dangling from his arms. "These are all identical. Malfoy. These shirts. They are <em>identical</em>."</p><p>Draco crooked two fingers to call him over to the chair. "This one," he said, tapping the shoulder seam of the shirt nearest Blaise's wrist and moving along the row as he spoke. "Has a tab collar. This has a spread collar. French cuff, square cuff, angle cuff. Do you really not see the difference in them?"</p><p>Blaise squinted, tipped his head, and eventually shrugged. "I see twelve identical white shirts."</p><p>"Three of your stepfathers are rolling in their graves."</p><p>"And four are agreeing with me, so on the balance I win." Blaise tossed all the shirts into the air, a quick charm leaving them floating to one side of the fireplace. He went back into the dressing room and returned with Pansy, both of them carrying a suit in each hand. They repeated the charm, the suits floating to face the shirts, and stood between the lines. Pulling a shirt forward to hold it near a suit, they discussed, rejected, and repeated.</p><p>Draco smoked in silence, watching them. As soon as they'd heard that he'd asked Hermione out on a date - a real one, not their false appearances for their cover story - they'd decided to move Snakes Night from Blaise's flat to the Manor. Not even decided, Draco thought. Assumed. They'd shown up at the main gate, strolled up the gravel lane, and let themselves in with the passcode they'd both had since childhood.</p><p>Draco had emerged from the shower, stark naked, to find them both already in his dressing room, sitting in the middle of a ring of shoes. Oxfords, derbies, brogues, and monk straps were all mixed with loafers and half boots. The only things they'd ignored were two pairs of slippers and his Quidditch boots. He'd intentionally dripped water on Blaise as he grabbed soft lounge bottoms and an old jersey, clothes that never left his bedroom.</p><p>Now they were ardently debating the merits of his suits - this one made him look taller but "too tall, Parks, he's already a giant", that one made his shoulders more broad but "honestly, Blaise, you could sit on his shoulders as it is, well I can, I have so" - and jostling each other as they matched suit to shirt and reversed decisions.</p><p>"You didn't even ask where I was taking her," Draco said, stopping them in mid-word.</p><p>Pansy swiveled to face him, both hands on her hips. Blaise peered over her head. "Where?" they said at the same time.</p><p>Draco blew a smoke ring at the ceiling. "Le Sorcier."</p><p>Pansy walked toward him, hands still on her hips. She kicked his feet apart, walked up between his thighs, dug her fingers into his shoulders, and shook him. Hard. "Le Sorcier, you <em>idiot</em>. Do you know how much time we've wasted?"</p><p>Whipping around, she snapped her fingers at Blaise. "Back to the drawing board, Zabini. Or dressing room, as it happens."  At the door, Pansy hesitated, turning to look at Draco. "And, er. If the chef there still has that position open. I'm available."</p><p>Blaise and Draco both looked at her. "What are you talking about?" Blaise asked. "You have a job."</p><p>"We parted ways," Pansy said. She pressed her lips together and gave a tight smile. "The owner of Gaudere and I have different priorities when it comes to people who need us."</p><p>Draco crushed his cigarette out, his jaw tightening. "You got fired. Because you went to stay with my mother instead of going to the restaurant."</p><p>"There was a big party that night," Pansy said. "All hands required. I didn't go." Her expression hardened. "And I don't regret it for a second. My people come before my job and they will every time."</p><p>Draco got up and moved to the door as Blaise pretended to examine the tie racks. "Parks," Draco said. "You don't have to take care of me."</p><p>"I wasn't," she said. "I was taking care of your mother. Hermione had you."</p><p>Draco pulled her into a hug, one arm wrapped around her shoulders. She curled in close against him, head on his chest for a moment, before she stepped back. "I'll talk to the chef at Le Sorcier," Draco said. "See what I can do."</p><p>She shook her head. "No. Not see what you can do. See if there's something available. I'm not letting you lean on someone for me."</p><p>"Parks—"</p><p>"Final word, Malfoy." She looked up and poked the underside of his chin. "Or I'll tell Granger about your stuffed Kneazle from childhood."</p><p>He faked an affronted look. "How <em>dare</em> you bring Amie into this?" He grinned as Pansy shoved him in the chest and reached past him to crumple the collar of a shirt.</p><p>"I never understood why you named it Amy," Blaise said over his shoulder as he gave a considering look to the rack of suits. </p><p>"I didn't. I named her Amie. It's French." French for friend. At the time, he'd been desperate for one, he remembered. His father had been arguing with Pansy's father and they'd been forbidden to see each other. One social picnic, they'd watched each other across the garden for an hour, hardly looking away long enough to eat tiny sandwiches. Pansy had left in tears, trudging behind her father without looking back. He remembered watching her go and taking a deep, shaking breath. Loud. Too loud. He'd been heard.</p><p><i>You're not going to cry, are you boy? You wouldn't embarrass me like that. You wouldn't dare. Sniffing hard, shaking his head. No, Father. A stern look and a tap of a silver walking stick on the ground. Good. Otherwise you would sleep in the nursery as befitting a baby.</i> </p><p>
  <i>Curling into his bed that night, a quiet voice in the darkness, his mother's hand tucking a soft toy under his arm. A new friend, my dragon. But don't tell your father.</i>
</p><p>"Whatever happened to Amie?" Pansy asked, flicking Blaise's arm to make him step to the side. </p><p>Draco shrugged one shoulder, leaning against the door jamb with his arms folded. "Got home for summer break first year and Father had burned most of my toys. Too old for them, he said. I've always assumed Amie went with the rest."</p><p>After a few moments of quiet, Blaise cleared his throat. "So you're taking Granger to Le Sorcier. Should I ask why you're taking her to the most romantic restaurant in England?" He pushed a suit to the side and laughed under his breath. "As if I don't know."</p><p>Pansy gave him a long look. "As if you don't know? What do you know?"</p><p>Blaise returned the look. "What do <em>you</em> know?"</p><p>"I'm not telling you until you tell me what you know."</p><p>"You don't know what I know."</p><p>"For fuck's sake, stop it. I'm in love with her." Draco rolled his eyes. "There. You both officially know, all right? And she doesn't, so keep it to yourselves. Especially you, Parkinson."</p><p>"Me?!"</p><p>"Blaise only sees her when Zabini Parchments is taking the Ministry's orders for new supplies, forms and whatnot. That's all business. <em>You</em> have to avoid blurting anything out over dinner. For example, things not to say would include Hermione, pass the butter, and by the way, Draco loves you and wants you to bear his children."</p><p>"I would never." Pansy narrowed her eyes. "Although it's tempting. You might never get around to it yourself. Good god, it took you long enough to believe that she wanted to get her hands on your dragon."</p><p>"What about dragons?"</p><p>Draco whipped around to see Narcissa crossing the room, both hands extended to Blaise and Pansy. "Hello, darlings," she said with a bright smile. "Marie told me you were here. Draco, you should have let me know. I would have had Cook prepare snacks. Do you still like those little currant scones, Blaise? You would eat so many of them when you were younger!"</p><p>"Yes, Mrs Malfoy," Blaise said, looking at the floor, his cheeks turning darker. Behind him, Pansy hid a giggle.</p><p>"That's not necessary, Mum," Draco said. "Snacks, I mean. They're just here to help me pick out—er. To help me go through my wardrobe."</p><p>Narcissa's smile widened. "To help you pick out? Finish your sentences, darling."</p><p>Behind his back, Draco flicked two fingers at Blaise, who was laughing into Pansy's shoulder. "To pick out an outfit, Mum. I have a date tomorrow."</p><p>Her eyes brightened briefly before she took a step back, her fists curling. "With. Don't. <em>Don't</em>," she said, tapping herself on the side of the head. "With that woman. The one who. With."</p><p>"Mum, no. Stay calm." Draco stepped out of the dressing room, putting himself between his mother and his friends. He did a quick scan - no wand, nothing in her hands - but braced himself regardless. </p><p>She tapped her head again. "Don't," she said, and this time Draco realized she was speaking to herself. She quivered, the tendons in her throat standing out. She panted for air, fingers flexing at her sides, then abruptly straightened up. "Don't say her name," Narcissa said. "Any of you. Do not dare."</p><p>She looked up at Draco and gestured him aside. "Pansy," she said. "If you would retrieve the garment bag from the far left cupboard. Behind the door."</p><p>Draco stared at his mother. "Mum, that's not—"</p><p>"You have a date. Your first in quite some time, my dragon. If this woman has induced you to break your celibacy—"</p><p>"Mum."</p><p>"Then you must look your best." She pulled down the zipper of the garment bag Pansy held and drew out a length of dove-grey silk, shot through with silver threads, the edges embroidered with silver vines and small black dragons. "This cloak," she said. "It was custom made to match your eyes. Wear it with the black pinstripe three piece. The silver tie with the faint black stripe."</p><p>Blaise grabbed the clothes Narcissa described. "Shoes?" he asked.</p><p>"Black oxfords. Plain, not capped. No, not the patent ones, too formal."</p><p>Draco stood frozen, eyes wide, as his mother chose his outfit for his date. For a moment, he felt as if he were fourteen again, getting ready for a chaperoned excursion with Pansy, and from the smile she was giving him, she had the same feeling. He shook his head and sighed. "Care to pick out the flowers as well, Mum?"</p><p>She smiled at him. "No. You will pick those yourself, darling. A woman is much happier when her lover's hand has stroked her petals."</p><p>Draco sucked in air so fast it whistled. "<em>Mother</em>!"</p><p>Narcissa went up on her toes and kissed the corner of his jaw. "I cannot say or even hear her name," she whispered. "But that does not mean I do not approve. Make me proud, my dragon."</p><p>She waltzed out of the room, arms high, humming one of her favorite tunes.</p><p>Draco, cheeks flaming pink, avoided looking at his friends, who were clinging to each other and gasping for breath through their laughs. "Right, clothes are done. What Mum says, goes."</p><p>Pansy rubbed her face and made an attempt at a serious expression. "Do you need help picking out the flowers?" Her grin burst from ear to ear. "Or do you think you have those <em>petals</em> under control? One problem you've got <em>licked</em>?"</p><p>Draco snorted. "Fuck off, Parks."</p>
<hr/><p>They stepped out of the Floo into a darkened room. Hermione held on to Draco's arm, afraid to take a step and trip. The only light came from the windows, a pale glimmer of the moon.</p><p>"Draco, it looks closed," Hermione said, looking up at his silhouette.</p><p>"It's always closed the last Sunday of the month. I pay them very well to make sure it is."</p><p>"You pay them?"</p><p>"I own the building," he said with a soft chuckle. "They pay me rent, at an incredible steal might I add, and in return, the last Sunday of the month is mine, exclusively. If I don't contact them that I'll be in, they can all go home early, with pay. If I come for dinner, the whole staff gets paid triple."</p><p>Draco lifted his hand as he muttered a few words under his breath. Around the room, lamps glowed and candles lit, warming the space with soft gold light.</p><p>Hermione sank her teeth into her lip, admiring the room. A single round table sat near the fireplace, with two armless chairs at right angles. A fountain of flowers poured from a vase standing between the two windows that looked out over the woods behind the restaurant. On the opposite side, glass cases held dozens of bottles of wine.</p><p>"Welcome to Le Sorcier," Draco said. He turned her around and slipped her cloak off her shoulders, then smiled down at her when she gave him a little spin to show off her dress. It was less conservative than most of her dresses, something she thought he might appreciate.</p><p>The floral work in the sheer black layer over a skin-tone bodice gave the appearance of something more risque than it actually was, with the dark, barely translucent sleeves adding to the illusion. From the gleam in Draco's eyes, the dress had been worth it. He bent down to kiss her and she playfully put one finger over his lips. "We talked about this. First <em>real</em> date, Draco. Save that sort of thing for later," she said.</p><p>Draco gave a soft laugh. "Lady's choice," he said. "Let me hang up our wraps and alert the staff we've arrived."</p><p>He shrugged out of his cloak, letting her get a real look at the hints of silver thread she'd seen when he picked her up at the townhouse. The long grey cloak swirled around him when he moved, making her think of a dragon's wings flaring out protectively. Plus it matched his eyes to perfection, as if it had been made for him. </p><p>Hermione rolled her eyes at herself. Of course it was made for him. If he could get something custom, he did. Even his cigarettes were a blend made especially, and exclusively, for him, according to Pansy. Only the best for Draco Malfoy. She hoped she could live up to that standard.</p><p>He went to the side of the room, put their cloaks on a pair of discreet hooks and pressed a small button hidden in the carvings around the door. Distantly, Hermione heard a ringing sound and what seemed to be a startled yelp overhead.</p><p>She looked up and froze, her mouth open in surprise. The ceiling was entirely hidden behind long, interlaced vines, white flowers dangling in bunches to make a living roof. She barely noticed Draco returning to her side, not until two more flowers moved into her field of vision. She blinked, shaking her head, and focused on the roses he held out to her, stems wrapped together in a thick red ribbon. The petals were a deep red on the insides, a faint gold on the outsides, and edged in a red so dark it was nearly black. Hermione touched the petals tentatively before meeting Draco's eyes. "Where did you get these?"</p><p>"You'd be amazed what you can hide in a charmed pocket in that cloak," Draco said, grinning when she made a face at him. "They're from the Manor's gardens. I picked them myself. One of my ancestors was a fiend for roses and she bred this strain. I don't think she ever named it. They reminded me of you." </p><p>"They're beautiful. Thank you." She reached up and cupped his cheek, smiling at him. "And thank you double for picking them yourself. Good start to a great evening, I hope."</p><p>Draco touched the flowers to the end of her nose and set them on the table. He held one chair for her, taking his seat once she was settled. "Luc should be coming in any minute—ah. There he is." Draco turned his attention to an elderly man, greeting him in rapid French.</p><p>Hermione listened, watching the shape of Draco's mouth as he spoke. She understood only a few words in the language but it didn't matter. She was fascinated by how Draco's voice shifted, the rumble of it smoothing out. In French, he sounded like the surface of a river, flowing and light; in English, he sounded like the danger of the depths.</p><p>Luc gave a bow and a quick grin that made his face look three decades younger. He shuffled out and Draco turned to Hermione. "Chef Emilien will decide our menu, by the way. Try not to send anything back unless you're allergic. He can be terribly touchy. Luc will be bringing my cognac up from the cellars and all of these wines are mine, so pick whatever you like."</p><p>She considered the bottles, then shook her head. "I think I'll have the cognac too. Something to sip on." She set her hand on his on the table and wrapped her fingers around his palm. "You make it difficult enough to keep my wits about me," she murmured.</p><p>Draco's eyes widened. He curled his fingers under to hold her hand and gave her a look that was surprisingly shy. "That's a hell of a statement coming from you, Granger."</p><p>"I mean it," she said. "I don't think I've been thinking clearly since that first kiss. And I mean the one at Harry's wedding. You've been on my mind since. Well, before that. A couple of years before that. And pretty much every day after, I can't stop thinking about you, how you talk, how you work, that bloody <em>smile</em> of yours, and god, the way you kiss, it's all—" She realized she was babbling and she jerked her hand free to cover her face with both palms. "See?" she half-shrieked into her fingers. "No wits."</p><p>Laughing, Draco caught her wrists to pull her hands down. He cupped them between his and kissed her fingers. "Hermione," he said. "The day you kissed me in the archives, I spilled a coffee on my trousers, shredded three forms I was still working on, and very nearly stabbed myself in the eye with my own wand because I could <em>not</em> stop thinking about you."</p><p>All her plans to keep any physical affections to the end of the night disappeared in a heartbeat. Hermione leaned over and kissed Draco, tipping her head to press hard against his mouth. He loosened one hand and slipped it around her nape, long fingers sliding through her hair to cradle her skull. Hermione opened for him, tongue brushing across his lower lip.</p><p>Draco made a soft noise, that low and throaty sound that affected her every time. She shivered, leaning closer, kissing him harder. Draco let her have a few seconds of a deep, probing kiss, then pulled away. His eyes were dark and his cheekbones had a faint pink flush across the tops. "No," he said, though Hermione wasn't sure if he was talking to her or to himself. "We decided."</p><p>He took a deep breath and sat back, releasing her hands. "I want you to have a real date, Hermione. Fine dining, finer wines. The best I can give you. No photographers, no publicity. You deserve it."</p><p>"The best you can give me," she said with a soft laugh. "An entire restaurant for the two of us? I don't think we can get much more private than that. It must cost you a fortune to have this full place reserved, even just once a month."</p><p>"I can afford it."</p><p>Hermione toyed with the ribbon around the roses, hesitating. "That—actually. That brings up something I wanted to ask you. You said before that the Ministry took twenty percent of your assets for the reparation fund."</p><p>Draco watched her for a moment, the skin around his eyes tightening. "Yes," he said in a low voice. </p><p>"Over three hundred million Galleons. Twenty percent." Hermione met his eyes. "Draco, that means you have over—that you're—"</p><p>"Ridiculously, almost unfathomably, wealthy." Draco cleared his throat, looking away from her. "Not everything is liquid. Very little of it, actually. Most of it's in investments and property, not in ready gold, but yes. I thought you knew."</p><p>"I knew you were rich. I didn't realize you were <em>that</em> rich."</p><p>"The Malfoys have been amassing assets for nearly a thousand years, Hermione. Even sickle-stock investments would garner a hefty return over that many centuries." He drummed his fingers on the table and let out a slow breath. "Is it going to be a problem for you?"</p><p>Hermione stroked the rose petals gently. Over a billion Galleons, and he'd brought her two flowers that he picked from his own garden. He could have brought in hundreds of exotic flowers, filled the room with rare blossoms in vases of solid gold. But he'd picked two roses and wrapped them in a simple ribbon because they reminded him of her.</p><p>"Don't use your gold to win an argument," she said quietly. "Don't try to spend a path out of any conflicts we have. I won't ask you not to spend money on me, because I think that's as impossible as stopping the tides. But don't use it as a weapon."</p><p>"I don't buy my way out of my troubles. I'm not my father."</p><p>Hermione took his hand, brushing her thumb across his signet ring. "Then it won't be a problem."</p><p>Draco brought her hand up and kissed her knuckles, the point of his tongue brushing between them. He released her with a quick grin.</p><p>Luc re-entered the room to set down an elegant cut-crystal decanter and a pair of snifters. Behind him was a waiter bearing a tray with several small dishes. Hermione sat back, keeping her hands out of the way, as the waiter laid out the plates and Luc poured the cognac. Draco spoke with him while everything was arranged, a hint of color touching his cheeks as Luc said something with a soft laugh and a glance at Hermione.</p><p>"Chef Emilien apologizes that the soup will be the main course of our dinner tonight," Draco said, tapping a covered tureen once Luc and the waiter left. "And that we're having all our courses at once. But since I just contacted them yesterday, he'd already promised most of the staff an early night, and they all had plans. Even with the help of magic, he's the only one in the kitchen. I said to tell him that was understandable. I haven't used my Sunday privilege in a few years, so I can't blame them for it coming as a shock."</p><p>Already eyeing a bowl of poached pears, Hermione nodded absently. "Fine. It's fine. Pass those over, please?" she said, pointing to the bowl.</p><p>They talked on general topics as they ate, both of them in agreement to avoid any discussion of work or the case on their date. The food was delicious, the cognac was warming, but Hermione barely noticed. She kept watching Draco's hands, thinking about all the times he'd been to dinner at the townhouse and she'd wished it had been just the two of them. Now it was, and she was thoroughly distracted by the sound of his voice and the elegant motions of his fingers. </p><p>At the end of dessert, Draco licked a bit of meringue off the pad of his thumb and Hermione dropped her fork. "God," she muttered, shutting her eyes. "You did that with the trifle. I remember. Talk about involuntary stimulation. I almost had to go upstairs and change knickers. Took a lot of concentration not to crawl across the table and pounce you right then."</p><p>Draco gave a low chuckle. "Lost chances," he said. He brushed one finger along the curve of her wrist and smiled. "Not going to lose another one."</p><p>Hermione shivered. His hand was warm, almost hot against her skin, and it reminded her of the few times he'd touched her intimately. When they were together and he was aroused, his hands felt like flames. She caught his fingers before he could pull away, sinking her teeth into her lower lip as she looked at him. "No. No more wasting opportunities."</p><p>"Come on," Draco said after a moment, never looking away from her face. "Let's take a walk."</p><p>Hermione collected her roses and stood still while Draco draped her cloak over her shoulders. He took her hand and let her out of the restaurant, following a stone path around the building to a wide and hard-packed trail into the woods. Once they were under the branches, the air turned colder. Hermione wrapped her arms around herself even with her cloak.</p><p>Immediately, Draco lifted the edge of his cloak and draped it over her shoulders, holding her close to his side. "There we go," he said. "Keep you warm. We're not going far."</p><p>They walked a few minutes into the forest, then Draco turned off the marked trail to lead her between two huge oak trees. When they passed between them, Hermione's ears popped and the greyhound ring on her finger almost seemed to pulse. She glanced down, twisting her hand in a thin beam of moonlight.</p><p>"Yes," Draco said, answering her unspoken question. "It did." He drew her to a stop beside a low and narrow boulder that formed a natural bench, one end touching the trunk of a large tree. "We've just crossed the boundary. You're on my land now." He nodded past the trees, though she didn't know what direction he was indicating. "The Manor's about a mile that way. We're at the very edge of the estate here."</p><p>He wrapped both hands around her waist and picked her up, standing her on the flattened boulder, her back to the tall trunk. "Hermione," he said, his voice dropping into a rumble. He stepped over the boulder, straddling it, and leaned close to whisper against her ear. "Kiss me."</p><p>She flung her arms around his neck and obeyed the command, kissing him hard. He made that deep sound in his throat, one hand falling to her leg to push beneath the hem of her dress and slide up her thigh. Tingling trails of heat followed the path of his fingers as he traced the thin side of her knickers on her hip.</p><p>They were more alone than they'd been since the start of their false relationship, and it seemed to give Draco a fervor she'd never expected. He pressed close to her, free hand slammed against the tree over her head, and kissed her as if every movement of her lips gave his heart a reason to beat.  </p><p>She dragged one hand down his chest, yanking open the button of his waistcoat and hauling the front of his shirt out of his trousers to flatten her hand across his stomach. Flicking his belt buckle open, she dropped her hand lower and rubbed the length of his cock through the fabric. Draco hissed and bucked into her touch, his teeth scraping across her lip. </p><p>He broke the kiss and dropped his head to nip at her throat. Hermione tipped her head, giving him free access to her neck, and Draco bit down without hesitation. She keened, her fingers tightening in his hair. "Draco," she whimpered. "Draco, please."</p><p>He bit harder, his teeth sinking into her neck. She had no doubt he was leaving another mark on her, claiming her as <em>his</em>. She slid her hand around his waist and dug her nails into his spine, putting her mark on him.</p><p>Draco shuddered, lifting his head to stare into her eyes. He pushed his hand between her thighs, finger tracing the gusset of her knickers. Hermione moved one foot, giving him room, and Draco slid his fingers beneath the fabric to trail along her folds. One small press and the tip of his finger slipped inside her. </p><p>"Hermione," he muttered, voice as dark as the shadows in the woods around them. He stroked deeper into her, finding her G-spot with a determination that made her quiver. His thumb probed upwards to rub her clit. "I want to take you to bed."</p><p>She looked the direction he'd indicated earlier, nodding wildly. She wanted him in a bed, wanted him <em>inside</em> her so much she could scream from waiting. "Draco—"</p><p>"Malfoy, Draco Lucius. Respond."</p><p>They both froze at the muffled, tinny voice coming from the depths of Draco's cloak. It called again, twice more, and Draco swore under his breath, pulling his hand from her body to lick his fingers before digging into the hidden pocket.</p><p>He came up with his badge, flashing white, and swore again. "Hermione," he said in a helpless tone. "I have to—"</p><p>"Answer it," she said, trying to catch her breath and fighting off the urge to burn the woods down from <em>another</em> interrupted kiss. For a ferocious, mad moment, she considered telling Draco they should both quit their jobs so they could spend the rest of their lives in bed together. "You're the lead investigator, Auror Malfoy."</p><p>He kissed her again and stepped away, head bent to respond to the summons. Hermione touched shaking fingers to her mouth. Her lips hurt from the ferocity of Draco's kiss and her heart pounded so hard she could hear it in her ears. She leaned on the tree for balance and stepped down off the boulder, steadying herself with her thighs pressed together as Draco turned back to her.</p><p>His face was stiff with annoyance, his eyes flashing dark. He shoved the badge deep into his pocket and met her eyes. "Another one," he growled. "Hermione, I—We can't. They think they found another one. I have to go to the scene and confirm, stick around if it is. I'll take you home first."</p><p>She walked to him, slipping both arms around his waist. She wasn't ready to let him go, not yet. If he wasn't needed long at the scene, they might be able to rekindle what they'd started. "I'm your partner, Draco. Take me with you."</p><p>His eyes flickered, as if decisions were rushing through his mind. With a quick indrawn breath, he wrapped his cloak around her, spun in place, and Disapparated in a black swirl and a violent, echoing crack.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The swirls of lightning rushed through her blood. Every nerve in her body felt as though it were burning, every cell aflame. Hermione clung to Draco in the black smoke of his Apparition and landed with her head pressed tight to his chest, her arms wrapped around his waist.</p><p>His fingers stroked through her hair. "Hermione," he said, spreading both hands across her back. "We're here."</p><p>She kept her grip on him as the fire in her body faded, looking up once the feel of lightning disappeared. They were in a park of some kind, children's play equipment off to one side, a long slide gleaming in the moonlight. Draco had his head bowed to watch her, his grey eyes filled with concern. "It's unpleasant, I know," he said. "It'll stop soon. I'll find you a place to sit down."</p><p>"No," she replied, shaking her head. He felt that pain every time he Apparated and had for years. She could bear it a few times. "I'm all right. Let's just–" She turned as a flare of yellow caught her eye and a bubble popped into view some distance away, near a wooden climbing structure. "There. That must be the scene."</p><p>She stepped back from Draco and covered her mouth to hide a laugh. "Um, you–you might want to. To neaten up a bit?"</p><p>Draco glanced down at himself. Jacket and waistcoat unbuttoned, shirt untucked, belt buckle unfastened. With his hair falling into his eyes, he was clearly a man who'd been interrupted in the middle of some activity, and there was no question what that activity had been. He arched a brow. "Well. Lucky we didn't land closer to the scene," he said as he tucked his shirt into his trousers and fastened his belt. "I'd never live it down."</p><p>Hermione made a quick check of her own clothing. Other than the sting in her neck where Draco had bitten her, she was fine, her skirt barely crumpled. The dress had been beautiful and she'd loved the way it looked on her, but she had to admit she'd bought it with more of an eye toward how fast Draco could get his hands under it.</p><p>Very fast, as it turned out. She could still feel the ghost of his hand on her hip, the heat of his finger slipping into her. It should have been embarrassing, how easily he'd been able to slide in her, but his kisses made her wet in a heartbeat. His touch made her ache.</p><p>Ache was the operative word, she thought. From the few times she'd touched him intimately, the one time she'd had her mouth on him, she expected that having him inside her would hurt. Possibly leave her strained and stretched and still feeling him for hours afterward.</p><p>God, she hoped so.</p><p>Draco buttoned his waistcoat and ran his hand through his hair to straighten out the pale blond strands. "Let me," Hermione said. He gave her a curious look but bent down so she could reach. Hermione grinned, lifted both hands, and deliberately mussed his fringe.</p><p>Draco snorted and kissed her before straightening up. He left his hair disheveled. "It's not obvious enough that we were on a date?" he asked, touching the side of her neck.</p><p>"Wouldn't want people to think I wasn't doing my fair share," Hermione said with a smile. Smoothing her fingers down the length of his tie, she contemplated holding him still for another, longer kiss, but a voice shouted a greeting from the direction of the crime scene. Hermione stepped back with a sigh. "Duty calls," she said.</p><p>She walked behind Draco to the scene, careful to follow his footsteps. He glanced over his shoulder, gave her a quick grin, and shortened his stride. She appreciated the silent consideration. The stability charms on her shoes kept her steady on the uneven ground, but Draco's long legs made it hard to keep her steps matched to his. They were far enough outside the crime scene that it was unlikely they'd walk over any evidence, but she wanted to be careful regardless.</p><p>When they stopped, Hermione tried to peer through the yellow bubble. She could see the hints of people as darker shapes, but no details, even with the lights hovering both inside and around the scene. Draco looked at a table a few yards away where several people stood with cups of tea. "Auror Malfoy, on scene," he said, and a woman in a trainee's uniform yelped and hurried over.</p><p>"Auror Trainee Lothridge," she said. "Sorry to disturb you, Auror Malfoy, and um. And Miss Granger," she added with a nod and a sidelong look at Hermione's neck. "Obviously you were getting a leg over–busy. You were busy. Apologies, sir." She coughed, looking everywhere but at Draco. "But my guv's off with the shits–with stomach upset and Nowak said it looked like it could be one of yours, so I made the call to bring you in. Naked corpse dumped in nowhere? Got a bloody dog's dinner–a bit of a shambles, sir. Sorry, sir."</p><p>Draco lifted a brow. "I'm assuming your supervisor sends you off for tea whenever the press arrives?"</p><p>Lothridge's face turned red and she shuffled her feet, staring down at the grass. Her voice lowered to an embarrassed whisper. "Working on it, sir. Dad was a bricklayer, spent a lot of summers with his crew. Picked up some rough talk, sir."</p><p>"Talk to Castillo or Dunn in Human Resources. They can set you up with some additional courses on public speaking. If you expect to make it past the exams, you'll need that skill. There won't always be a senior Auror around to speak to the public or the press and Mandamus tends to take offense when MLE gets dinged for chatting about how someone popped their clogs. Have a natter about vics carking it all you want but do it back at the office. Not on scene."</p><p>Lothridge exchanged a wide-eyed look with Hermione at Draco's sudden drop into slang, then Lothridge giggled. "You're all right, sir. Sign the sheet and come have a gander at this one for us. Techs are doing their poking right now." She bounced back to the group near the table.</p><p>Hermione looked up at Draco, who gave her an innocent expression. "What?"</p><p>"You do that deliberately," she said. "I noticed it when you were dealing with Taylor at Yorkshire. He expected an arsehole and you gave it to him. But this one, she was clearly nervous. You spoke more like her to keep her from being so embarrassed, didn't you?"</p><p>Draco grabbed a clipboard floating near the bubble and reached into his suit jacket, withdrawing a gold-leafed fountain pen. "I did," he said as he printed his name and badge number on the form. He signed with a flourish, glanced at her, then carefully printed something else. He held the fountain pen and clipboard out to her. "It puts a witness more at ease if they're hearing speech that's closer to theirs. Or," he said and gestured at himself. "Posh git speaking that way? Sets suspects on their heels. Confuses them. It's a tactic."</p><p>Hermione took the clipboard, noting that he'd printed her name and 'document specialist' beside it. She glanced at him and he shrugged. "You need a reason to be here and 'Auror's girlfriend' isn't valid. If we find any pieces of paper or documents sitting around, you're up. Otherwise, you need to stay back. I'll find a spot for you to stand where you can observe."</p><p>She signed the form, fitting her signature into the allotted space. "But if it's our case–"</p><p>"No," he said firmly as he took the clipboard and hung it in the air. "You're not trained to be on a crime scene, Granger. You'll stay out of the way. I should have taken you home. But, er." He capped his pen, tucked it into his jacket, and gave her a quick smile. "But I'll be honest, I didn't want to end the evening that way. I had very different plans in mind for tonight."</p><p>She looked up at him and brushed his fingers. "So did I," she said. "I'm hoping this isn't your case. If this doesn't run too long, maybe we could–" She cleared her throat, glanced over her shoulder at the group having tea, then went up on her toes with both hands on Draco's chest for balance. She lowered her voice. "Maybe we could get back to what we were doing. Preferably in a bed. Horizontal. Naked, even."</p><p>Draco's eyes darkened. "That was the majority of my plan."</p><p>Hermione slipped one finger into the placket of his shirt, stroking his bare skin. She felt his heart speed up beneath her palm. Smiling up at him, she wet her lips and used the fall of her cloak to cover her movement as she dropped her hand to drag her fingers along the length of his zipper. </p><p>She felt her smile turn wicked when Draco grunted, his lashes fluttering. "Glad to hear you intended to be <em>on top</em> of things. Sir."</p><p>"God," Draco muttered. "If there weren't a dozen people waiting on me to look at this vic."</p><p>He ducked down and kissed her, keeping it brief, then stepped away to wave his hand over the yellow bubble around the crime scene. An opening appeared. Before Hermione could move, Draco rocked back on one heel, his hand covering his nose. </p><p>Hermione could smell the blood from where she stood. She watched Draco pinch his nostrils closed and take a deep breath through his mouth before settling his shoulders. She took a step closer and he held his arm out, blocking her from stepping through the opening. </p><p>"Our serial killer doesn't leave blood everywhere, does he?" she asked, peering beneath his arm at the scene. The bright hovering lights showed the blood on the ground, on a metal bench, on a round rubbish bin. The naked body was behind the bin, head hidden from her view. </p><p>"No," Draco said. "And he doesn't dump his bodies in playgrounds, either. There's something else. Something like mold or mildew or–" He shook his head and took another breath, nostrils flaring as he inhaled.</p><p>His eyes shot wide.</p><p>"Clear the scene!" he shouted, shoving her backwards. Hermione staggered, the stability charms on her heels barely managing to keep her upright. Draco's wand snapped into his hand and the yellow bubble disappeared with an echoing pop. Draco shouted again. "Scatter!"</p><p>Everyone retreated.  Everyone except Draco. He stalked forward, wand held low and wide. "Come on," he said, staring at the body. "You're not fooling me."</p><p>Hermione shivered as the air turned cold. A cracked, rolling laugh came from behind the rubbish bin. Hermione wrapped both arms around herself, her skin prickling with gooseflesh. Instinctively, she took a step back.</p><p>The body moved.</p><p>Hermione scrambled back further, ending up in the middle of the group with Lothbridge. She sank her teeth into her lip and watched as the body crawled around the rubbish bin and across the ground, head up, mouth open to show long fangs. "Vampire," she heard someone whisper behind her. "<em>Fuck</em>."</p><p>She ignored the talk. She watched Draco shift his stance, the silver threads in his cloak catching the moonlight. The vampire's head turned, black eyes locked on Draco, his cloak and pale hair gleaming like a beacon. "Come on," Draco said again. "Bet you're hungry. Ever tasted a millennium-old bloodline?"</p><p>Hermione's blood chilled as the vampire growled. It gathered itself and leapt to its feet, fangs bared. Its naked form was as thin and sexless as a skeleton, every bone showing as it moved. Draco spun, cloak flowing around him. Hermione watched, both hands over her mouth, as the two circled each other. The vampire slashed at Draco with clawed fingers; Draco knocked it back with a Stunner that it shook off.</p><p>The vampire looked at Draco, then past him. "She has <em>your</em> scent," it hissed. "Your bite." Its grin widened. "Put mine on her, yes." </p><p>It leapt again.</p><p>Past Draco.</p><p>Hermione watched it moving, the entire world seeming to slow down as the vampire came at her. Its mouth opened wide, fangs shining. Hermione wanted to scream but she was frozen in place, trembling and trapped by the vampire's gaze. Her heart thudded in her wrists and neck, pulsing under the thin places of her flesh. The vampire shrieked, arms spread, clawed fingers reaching for her.</p><p>Behind it, Draco turned, his cloak flaring out like wings. He shouted her name, his voice filling the air with a roar. Hermione's pulse raced again, her eyes widening as she saw Draco's face. She'd seen a hint of that look before, when he'd stepped between her and Colin Blackpool, protecting her. The lines of his face now were sharp and white with anger. His wand slashed the air.</p><p>Lightning speared through the vampire's chest, wrapping its limbs in brilliant, sparking white bonds. It hit the ground with a scream, writhing in the bloody grass. Draco hit it with the bright red jet of a second Stunner. The vampire screamed again and curled in on itself, going still, the lightning-bonds sizzling into silver chains around it.</p><p>Draco strode past it, eyes locked on Hermione. "I'm fine," she said, hands out to him. She knew the question he was going to ask and she rushed to answer it. "Draco, it didn't touch me. You stopped it in time. I'm safe."</p><p>He grabbed her in both arms, hauling her off her feet for a ferocious kiss. Forehead against hers, he stared into her eyes. "I will always protect what's mine, Hermione," he said, his voice a deep and rumbling growl that made her heart race. He bent his head and nipped her throat in the same place he'd bruised earlier that night. "I will always protect <em>you</em>."</p><p>Hermione clung to him, arms around his neck, knees around his hips. She tucked her head under his chin, listening to him as he murmured to her. The words were indistinct, but the timbre of his voice was fierce. She shivered, both from the adrenaline of the near-attack and from the strength of Draco's arms holding her close. "Is it dead?"</p><p>"No. Just contained." Draco kissed her again and lowered her to the ground. He shrugged out of his cloak and wrapped it around her, the grey fabric puddling on the grass. "But I would have, if I'd needed to. I saw it go for you and I–" He exhaled sharply.</p><p>Hermione ignored Auror Trainee Lothbridge and the techs huddled on the far side of the scene, ignored the flashes of light from beyond the scene's boundaries. She ignored everyone except Draco. "I know," she said, reaching up to cradle his cheek before stepping in close to hold him. "I'm all right, Draco. I'm safe. You made sure I was safe."</p><p>Draco stood with her in his arms, head bowed. Hermione listened as his heartbeat slowed and his breathing steadied out. "There we go," she said when his hands relaxed on her back. "That's it. I'm here. We're safe."</p><p>He looked down at her, lips parted as if he were about to say something, then shook his head and took a step back, hands sliding down her arms to grip her fingers. When he lifted his head, his face had cleared, the Auror coming to the fore. "Stay here," he said. </p><p>He turned away, barking a command, and the yellow bubble popped back into existence. Hermione heard a distant, outraged shriek.</p><p>Draco went to the still vampire, wand out, and stared down at it. "Where is your sire?" he asked it. "Who is he?"</p><p>"Dead," the vampire groaned. It shuddered under the silver chains. "Dead. Three months gone. Hungry."</p><p>Draco tapped his wand against his thigh, watching the vampire. "You're the one that killed the boy in the morgue," he said. "Aren't you? Your sire died before he could train you not to slaughter your food."</p><p>"Hungry," the vampire whimpered. "Sire gone."</p><p>"Lothridge," Draco said. She scurried up and he spoke to her without taking his eyes off the vampire. "Contact Davis in Magical Creatures and Parfitt on squad three. Davis can get this one straightened out enough to confess and Parfitt can close her case. Have you dealt with a vampire before?"</p><p>"No, sir. The training course on creatures and beings got delayed this year."</p><p>Draco nodded. "I see. You're lucky that lack didn't get you or the techs killed tonight. Get your notepad and pay attention."</p><p>Hermione watched, Draco's cloak pulled tight around her, as Draco gave Lothridge a quick run-down on the characteristics of a vampire, ways to identify one, and the best methods for defense and containment in an attack. He was clear and efficient, and Lothridge's pencil moved fast as he talked. Hermione smiled, thinking of how he'd been with his own trainees. If he hadn't been an Auror, she thought he might have made a good teacher. He'd certainly have been an improvement on some of the ones they had in school.</p><p>Lothridge muttered something to Draco, pointing her pencil in the direction of the earlier shriek. Draco glanced that way and made a face. He gave a few directions to Lothridge that Hermione didn't hear before coming back over to her.</p><p>"We were photographed again," he said. "Some stringer for a crime blotter hoping to get a shot of the scene, got more than they bargained for."</p><p>"Mmm, let me guess. Bookish sidekick Hermione Granger giving boyfriend Auror Malfoy congratulatory snog for daring rescue from vicious vampire."</p><p>"Snappier caption. Malfoy Goes For the Throat, I'd say. I can have the camera confiscated before they manage to sell it to the papers." One corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. "On the other hand, I do rather like the idea of someone getting a scoop on Rita."</p><p>Hermione laughed. "Let it go. I like that idea too." She glanced past him as an opening appeared in the yellow bubble and two more people hurried inside and straight to the vampire on the ground. "How much longer will you need to stay?"</p><p>Draco rubbed his jaw. "Unfortunately, quite some time. Technically this isn't an arrest, it's a capture, and there are different procedures involved. I'm the only one who can remove those chains and I can't remove them until it's properly contained and it can't be contained until it's transported and so on. Afraid you're going to have to go home alone, Granger."</p><p>She started to pull his cloak off her shoulders and he caught her hand. "I'll be moving around a lot," he said. "It would be in the way. Keep it for me." His eyes gleamed and he bent down to whisper to her. "And if it smells like you when you return it, I won't object in the slightest."</p><p>He walked her to the edge of the bubble and opened it for her. Hermione turned to look at him. "Be careful, Draco," she said, releasing his hand. "I worry about you."</p><p>"Because I'm on your list?"</p><p>"You're on a different list now," she said. "And it's a list of one."</p><p>His eyes widened for a moment, then her heart stuttered when he gave her that slow and dimpled smile. He leaned down to kiss her, lips touching the corner of her mouth. "Good night, Hermione," he said, brushing her fingers.</p><p>Draco stepped back, watching her until she Apparated.</p>
<hr/><p>Hermione looked up from her work when she heard a firm rapping on the closed door. The small window in the door showed a neatly-knotted tie and a black runic tattoo. Hermione hid a laugh as Draco crouched to peek through the window. She pulled off her protective gloves and opened the door to let Draco in. "I've hardly seen you for a few days," she said, stopping herself from giving him a kiss in greeting. Two of her clerks were leaning back in their chairs, watching the door of her lab. Hermione shooed them back to their work with a glare. "Did it take that long to get everything finished up with that vampire?"</p><p>"Nice goggles," he said, shutting the door behind him. "Used to wear something a lot like that for Quidditch."</p><p>"Magnifiers," she said, tapping a small lever on one side. "As well as polarizers, color filters, a few other tricks. And you dodged the question."</p><p>"I did. Mostly because it was an annoyance. I had to go through decontamination and have Davis watch me all night with a silver blade, just in case. And I had to eat a <em>lot</em> of garlic. You wouldn't have wanted me near you for at least two days. With my nose, I could barely stand to be near myself." </p><p>"Fair enough. Don't touch. You're not wearing gloves." Hermione pushed his hand away from the hood covering the report she had on the work table.</p><p>"You are aware that I'm fully trained in handling evidence." Draco looked at the table covered in projects and the single chair in the small room, then leaned his shoulders against the wall to stay out of her way. "What do you have there, anyway?"</p><p>"It's from the Yorkshire office. A very old report. It's faded so much that it's almost impossible to read but I think I can pull the ink back to the surface. It's still there, you know, just damaged by light and time. But with a mixture of optics and document handling techniques, I've been able to fix records like this before. Some thermal pressure, plus a fixative I developed. Ultraviolet light and infrared, the usual non-visible wavelengths. I've invented a couple of charms and built on the work of Locard and Jenkinson, with a little Malus and Bonifacio and–"</p><p>Draco's soft laugh interrupted her and she stopped, her cheeks turning pink. "You don't care about any of that."</p><p>"I don't <em>understand</em> any of that," he said. "Doesn't mean I don't care. You should see how your face lights up when you really get going. I'd let you go on about light and thermos-whatevers all you wanted."</p><p>"Thermal," she said with a snort. "Thermal pressure. The application of heat can draw certain inks to the surface of the document. And I know you know what a thermos is. I've seen you with one before."</p><p>Draco grinned. "Amuses me to watch people try to explain Muggle things to me. You should see Balsom on squad five try to teach me about electricity. He turns eight shades of red in efforts not to call me an inbred pureblood idiot. Probably doesn't help that I deliberately pronounce it 'ekelcity' just to fuck with him."</p><p>Hermione rolled her eyes. "And you wonder why people think you're a posh git."</p><p>"I've never wondered that. I know exactly why. I encourage it." He shrugged one shoulder. "You'd be amazed how many confessions I've collected by pretending to have no idea what an automobile is or the like. People let a lot of things slip when they're annoyed or angry. It's a tactic."</p><p>Hermione pushed her goggles on top of her head to look at him. He'd said something very similar at the crime scene four days before. "A lot of what you do is a tactic, I've noticed. Does anyone know who Draco Malfoy really is?" </p><p>She watched him carefully, spotting the moment when his pupils contracted. She stopped herself from nodding. Right then, one of his mental walls had gone up. He'd blocked something out of his head, hidden it away.</p><p>It took him only a second to flash her a quick smile. "Pansy does," he said. "Mostly. Blaise knows a lot. You're starting to climb the ranks, though, so they may find some competition."</p><p>"Draco. I'm being serious. How much of yourself do you cover up with tactics?"</p><p>He stared at her for a few moments, his face still. "Almost everything, Hermione," he finally said. "There's no one on earth who knows me fully. And I have my reasons for that. You spend over half your life wondering if today is the day you're going to die and knowing that there's a very good chance it might be. Letting someone know the 'real' Draco Malfoy means giving someone power over me. I'm never going to do that voluntarily."</p><p>She took her goggles off and laid them on the table, shaking her hair out. "Because they can hurt you." He didn't respond but she saw him press his shoulders a little firmer to the wall behind him. She stepped closer to settle both hands on his chest. "I won't hurt you," she said, spreading her fingers out to trace the straps of his wand harness through his suit jacket. </p><p>Starting at his shoulder, she dragged her finger in a diagonal line down his chest to his hip, following the line of the largest scar he had. "I won't hurt you," she said again, looking up to see him watching her. "And you know that. You believe that, here." She rested her hand over his heart. "Because when you needed help, you asked for me. You wanted to come to me, Draco. You knew you were safe with me."</p><p>She touched the back of his neck, stroking down to his collar. "I can't tell you that I'll stop asking you to share with me or talk to me. To let me know you. But I can promise that I will never, <em>never</em> use anything you tell me to hurt you. Because I care about you and I want you to understand that you can always come to me when you need help."</p><p>"You'll hurt me eventually," he said. "You're more capable of it than you realize." He cupped her cheeks and bent to kiss her forehead. Spreading his hands across her back, he held her close. His voice dropped into his soft rumble. "But I'll forgive you when you do."</p><p>Hermione closed her eyes, her head settling against his chest. She didn't try to argue with him. He'd stood alone, on his own, for so long that she wasn't surprised by his response. She'd said what she could. All she could do after that was continue to show him that she was there to support him. That she cared about him. </p><p>She lifted her head after a minute and smiled up at him. "I expect you didn't come down here to make me climb my stepstool and find an old record for you," she said. "And by the way, you're never doing that again. I'm on to your tricks, Malfoy."</p><p>He laughed under his breath. "Now I don't need an excuse to come talk to you. But you're right, that's not why I'm here. Two reasons, professional and personal. Which do you want first?"</p><p>"Professional," she said, releasing him reluctantly to step back and check the progress of the charms on the report she had been examining. The ink was spreading out and blurring, which looked as if it was destroying itself, but she nodded. It would contract into the original lettering before long. </p><p>"That murder you found from the late 80s. I need to check the evidence box, see if the necklace the vic was wearing is definitely a match to my current case. If Cotterill and Choudhury have finished putting together a list of jewelers who do custom work, we can narrow it down to ones that have been in business for twenty years or better, see if this <em>is</em> a match."</p><p>"Weren't you supposed to look into that last week?"</p><p>He shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. "I keep getting distracted and putting it off. Don't know what's going on there, but every time I tell myself to do it, I think of something else to do. It's fairly low priority, really, but it does need to be done. Soon as I grab the box, I'll take it upstairs and then head out to start checking jewelers. And yes, Head Archivist Granger, I will sign it out properly."</p><p>"You could send Nicola and Naseem to do it," she said, pushing her chair out of the way to reach up for a flask of developing fluid on a high shelf.</p><p>Draco plucked the flask down and handed it to her. "I'm using them to speak to the families and friends of the victims. They're less intimidating than I am. People open up easier to a couple of young women than they do to me. I'm more interrogation than friendly questions."</p><p>"Mmm, logical. You can loom when you're not paying attention." She set the flask on the table next to a long flat tray. "All right, what's your other reason for being down here? The personal one."</p><p>He reached into his jacket and pulled a square envelope out, holding it so she could see the front where <i>Mister D. Malfoy and Guest</i> was written in an elaborate, old-fashioned script. "Invitation to the Rose Ball at Chaswell House," Draco said. "I wasn't sure if you'd want to go."</p><p>She looked sideways at him. "Why not?"</p><p>"Fancy party," he said with a slight shrug. "But more to the point, fancy kink club party. It's a bit above and beyond what goes on at the club on a normal night. Thought it might be a little more than you'd be willing to explore for an undercover assignment."</p><p>"If I was going to go solely for an undercover assignment, possibly. That was when we first heard about it, after all. Back then." Hermione danced her fingers up his tie to drag the tip of her nail along his jaw. "But now? I'd be going as your girlfriend. <em>Really</em> your girlfriend. Different story entirely. I was looking forward to a night out with you at the club. A long night. All night, in fact." </p><p>She drew her finger under his lower lip. "Because, Draco? I am <em>done</em> getting interrupted with you. I want to go to the ball with you and I don't want to leave until morning. Preferably exhausted from a complete lack of sleep. Unless you object?"</p><p>Draco raised a brow. "Oh, Granger. I have no objections to that plan at all." His voice had gone rough, his eyes darkening. He caught her wrist and pressed her fingers to his mouth. "So I'll send an acceptance, then?"</p><p>"An enthusiastic one." Hermione ordered herself to draw her hand away from him. He made it all too easy for her to lose track of her thoughts, especially when his grey eyes were turning to charcoal and his cheeks held that hint of pink. She cleared her throat and turned back to her work table. "Now, my spell is about to complete and I need to get it in that developing fluid right away. You're going to want to take that sensitive nose out of here, Malfoy. It's not a pleasant odor."</p><p>"Thanks for the warning." Draco kissed the top of her head on his way out. </p><p>After several minutes, the charm finished with a soft chime. Hermione drew on a pair of gloves and slipped the report into the metal tray, a thin layer of fluid poured on top. She watched the ink swirl and re-form into crisp, clear letters. Wrinkling her nose in satisfaction, she tapped the tray with her wand to finish the process and read the page. </p><p>It was a short report, and she found herself disappointed that it wasn't related to their case after all. A bespoke jeweler had been robbed in the late 80s, but the robber had been caught and all the jewels returned. Hermione made a face. She'd hoped she'd found a break in the case.</p><p>She cleaned up her work area, washed the smell of the developing fluid off her exposed skin, and went up to MLE to Draco's commandeered conference room for another look at the wall of evidence. There was still something about the jewelry that was tickling at her mind.</p><p>Draco came in a few minutes later, dumping a heavy archives box on the table. He stepped up behind her, hands settling on her waist. "I took a closer look at the evidence," he said. "And the necklace is definitely a match. The woman from the 80s? I'm prepared to officially say she's our first victim. Still can't figure out why he took such a long break or why he changed his procedures, but I'm convinced it's the same killer. The necklaces are too much of a coincidence otherwise."</p><p>"I agree," Hermione said. She let herself lean back, resting against Draco's solid weight. "We need to find out who made that necklace. You said something keeps distracting you from going to question jewelers."</p><p>He hummed. "I don't know what it is. Every time I think about going, I get distracted with something. It's as if I keep putting it out of my mind deliberately, but it's entirely unconscious. I'd say I forget about it, if that wasn't impossible."</p><p>"Then let's not let you 'forget' about it this time." Hermione removed a list from a thumbtack and drew her wand. "Nicola and Naseem collated all the jewelers. Now we remove all the ones that weren't in business twenty years ago." She tapped her wand on the list as she spoke and the names shifted around, some disappearing entirely before the remainder formed two columns. "And we rearrange things a bit. Wizarding jewelers on one side, Muggle on the other."</p><p>"Muggle," Draco said. "Why did they include Muggle jewelers?"</p><p>"I asked them to. Gemma and Gwen were both Muggle-born," she said, gesturing at the wall. "It's possible that the other three are as well. That's not in their reports and I've asked Nicola to look into it. I just–" She huffed and fidgeted with the list in her hand, uncurling one corner.</p><p>"What?" Draco asked. He smoothed his hands over her stomach, thumbs brushing the bottom of her ribs. "What is it?"</p><p>"It's ridiculous," she said. "It's not based on evidence or logic or anything that's <em>reasonable</em>. You're going to think I'm being silly. Maybe it's because I'm Muggle-born that I'm thinking like this, but I have a strong suspicion that <em>all</em> of them are Muggle-born, and that somehow, for some reason, it's important to the killer. And if it is, there may be a Muggle-born connection to the first killing."</p><p>"You're not the only one with a strong suspicion and it's not silly. The details on the first murder are odd. There's something unconvincing about them. I can't quite act on it yet, but I agree with you. I think there's a Muggle-born connection to all of my current murders, and I'll bet there's one to the 80s vic as well." Draco bent down and dropped a kiss in her hair. "So since we both believe there's a Muggle-born connection, it's logical to put Muggle jewelers on the list. I'll take any help at this point."</p><p>She tipped her head back and shut her eyes, listening to the sound of his heart. It reminded her of how he'd curled her into his arms the night after his inquiry, and made her dream of lying with him, limbs tangled. She could picture herself with her head on his chest, listening to his heart pound with exertion, to his rough and uneven breathing. She imagined him tugging her close, nuzzling into her hair, whispering her name. His eyes gleaming in dim light; his dimpled smile, for her and her alone. His large hands smoothing along her side, long fingers slipping between her thighs.</p><p>Clearing her throat to push the image away before it distracted <em>her</em>, she straightened up and turned to face him. "We should look into them now. Today, while we're both thinking about it. We'll split the list. You start with the wizarding ones, I'll take the Muggles. We should meet up every few shops, to compare notes. And to make sure you haven't been distracted again."</p><p>"Sounds like a plan. We'll meet at these." Draco took the list from her and marked several of the names on it before using his wand to slice it down the middle. He handed her the half with the Muggle shops. "Let's get going."</p>
<hr/><p>It had been raining in Truro and Hermione avoided most of the puddles as she made her way to the shop. The bell over the door jingled. Behind the counter, a well-dressed woman in her sixties looked up with a smile. "Welcome to Gordon Jewelers," she said. "How can I help you?"</p><p>Hermione stomped water off her feet. "Has a man been in here in the past hour? Blond, black suit?" She held her hand well above her head. "About this tall?"</p><p>The woman smiled. "Three blond men in suits today, but no one that tall. And if you're looking to see if your husband has bought you something, ma'am, I'm afraid I can't give that information out."</p><p>Hermione blinked. The shop was the last of the ones on her list, the final Muggle jeweler. No one here would recognize her or Draco. She'd intended to ask if the woman had spoken to a private investigator, but the implication that her 'husband' might be secretly shopping for her gave her an idea. She put on a bright smile and approached the counter. "No, we were supposed to meet, but I was working and lost track of time. I was afraid I'd be late. He must have been delayed as well."</p><p>"Ah, I see. Well, again, welcome to Gordon Jewelers. I'm Mopsa Gordon." At Hermione's giggle, the woman gave a rueful sigh. "Mopsa was a character in–"</p><p>"The Winter's Tale! Shakespeare." Hermione held her hand out. "Hermione," she said, grinning. "Same play."</p><p>They shared a quick laugh before Mopsa tapped her fingers on a square of velvet sitting on the glass. "What brings you in today, Mrs-–?"</p><p>The bell jingled again and Hermione looked over her shoulder. Draco stood on the mat, adjusting the knot of his tie. "There he is!" Hermione said brightly. She hurried over and tugged Draco down by the lapel of his suit jacket to give him a kiss. "Darling, I wondered if you'd make it."</p><p>She turned back to the woman, wrapping her hand around Draco's. "Mopsa, this is my husband, Draco Malfoy."</p><p>"What now?" Draco asked, staring down at her. "Did you call me–" </p><p>"<em>Darling</em>," she said, tightening her grip on his hand. She trusted that he'd catch on to her ploy quickly. He'd certainly come up with the 'secretly dating' backstory without hesitating when they'd first started this assignment. This was an extension of that story, she told herself. "I was afraid I'd missed you. I was running late again, you know how I am. But we're both here and we've made it and now we can have this lovely woman show us the work they do here. You remember, darling, Nicola told us about this shop? The bespoke work they do? I was about to ask Mopsa about that old pendant."</p><p>Draco furrowed his forehead, then blinked and lifted a brow. "Right," he said slowly. "Nicola told us."</p><p>Hermione squeezed his hand, beaming up at him. "And I thought if we showed Mopsa the photograph, maybe she'd be able to tell us if this shop made the pendant. If they did, we could get another done like that! Wouldn't that be wonderful, darling?"</p><p>"Wonderful," he repeated. </p><p>"Let me get my glasses," Mopsa said with a soft laugh. "A jeweler's loupe is excellent for diamonds, not for photographs!" She stepped to the rear of the shop, into a small area with a desk and a matched chair and settee. "Coffee, tea?" she called to them.</p><p>"Tea, thank you," Hermione called back. "Coffee for him, lots of sugar. He has an outstanding sweet tooth, don't you, darling?"</p><p>"Very." Draco pulled her into the circle of his arm and ducked his head, lowering his voice. "Who are you being?" he murmured. "Hermione Granger doesn't babble like that, unless she's nervous."</p><p>"One of my archive clerks," she said, keeping her voice soft. "She'll talk to the wall if no one is around. Just borrowing her for a little bit. It's a tactic," she added with a grin up at him.</p><p>Draco hid a snort. "Right, a tactic. So you didn't think being my girlfriend would be enough for this place? You'd rather be my wife?"</p><p>His voice altered on the last words, a small tension in the way he spoke. She didn't think anyone would notice if they didn't know him well. But it gave her pause. She took a half-step back, enough to see his face without straining her neck. The muscles around his eyes had tightened, and his pupils contracted, the little signs she knew meant he was blocking something out of his thoughts. </p><p>She stroked his fingers but they were warm. Whatever he was blocking, it wasn't a bad memory. She hoped it wasn't annoyance that she'd changed their cover for this. "Too much? I mean, our relationship, I know we're barely–but she asked if I was trying to find out if my husband had bought me anything and it seemed like a good story. I'm sorry, I didn't–I assumed that since it would only be for this shop, that it wouldn't be a problem. It's too much, it's going past–"</p><p>"Hermione." Draco let out a silent sigh and dragged two fingers down the back of her neck, his expression easing. "I just wasn't expecting it. I can deal with this. So you're my–we're married. You don't think Mopsa there will notice that we're not wearing wedding rings?"</p><p>Hermione glanced to the back of the shop to be sure Mopsa was still occupied. "I thought we could say that we're having them resized. Newlyweds, old family rings, settings are being redone. Something like that. If she asks, you answer. You know more about jewelry than I do."</p><p>"I've noticed you rarely wear any. I was going to ask you if you had anything that would work for a ball. I can get something–"</p><p>She drew back and narrowed her eyes. She had the sudden image of him dropping a year's salary on one piece of jewelry for her. "You're not spending that much on me for one evening, Draco Malfoy."</p><p>He lifted a brow. "From the vaults," he continued. "There are centuries worth of jewels in there, Hermione. Tell me the color of your dress and I'll find something to match. Three or four somethings, probably, so you can have your choice."</p><p>Hermione looked down at their joined hands. She took a deep breath as she thought. She didn't have anything for fancy occasions, not really. Certainly nothing that would pass as appropriate for the Rose Ball. Still, she couldn't bring herself to spend that kind of money, not if she needed to get a dress as well. If Draco had something available, it made sense to allow him to provide, she reasoned.</p><p>She squeezed Draco's fingers. "Blue," she said. "And simple. Nothing elaborate."</p><p>Draco blinked. "I was sure I'd have to fight you on that. I was seriously braced for an argument, Granger. What am I supposed to do now?"</p><p>She made a face at him. "Acknowledge that this is a loan, not a gift, and that you'll be taking any jewelry I <em>borrow</em> straight back to your vaults."</p><p>"Well, not straight back," he said. His eyes darkened. He dragged the point of his tongue across his bottom lip and dropped his voice into that growl. "I believe you wanted to be exhausted from lack of sleep? I fully intend to be in the same predicament."</p><p>Hermione closed her eyes and shivered. The look he gave her held promises she desperately wanted him to fulfill. Draco touched her chin and she automatically lifted her head. He kissed her gently, a brief touch to her mouth that made her stifle a whimper when he pulled away. "Patience, pet," he whispered to her. </p><p>"Mopsa, was it?" he said, releasing Hermione to move to the counter. "How long have you been in operation?"</p><p>"Oh, since the early fifties," Mopsa said, setting a tray on a low table next to the chair in the seating area. She opened a small gate in the counter and gestured them to follow her. "My grandmother started the shop after the war, little trinkets and things for the soldiers to buy for their girls. My mother took over after her, and then me. We keep the Gordon name for business. I have a grand-niece who'll be next to take over. Such nimble fingers! She'll be able to do some amazing detail work."</p><p>"Excellent," Draco said as Hermione sat next to him on the settee and Mopsa settled into the chair. "Then it's possible that either you or your mother did the work our friend Nicola showed us." He drew Hermione in against his side and smiled at her. "Did you bring the photo, my love?"</p><p>Hermione froze, staring at him. She'd thought hearing him call her 'pet' set her heart racing. That was no comparison to how fast her pulse was now. She could feel it beating in her throat, hear it thundering in her ears. <i>My love</i>. She tried to reply and all she could manage was a strangled squeak.</p><p>Draco slipped his hand up beneath her hair and rubbed the back of her neck. "Forgot, did you? Not to worry. I expected as much and have my own copy. I know you." He reached into his suit jacket and pulled a folded envelope from the inner pocket. "If you could take a look at this, Mopsa, I'd appreciate it. It's from the eighties, as far as we know."</p><p>Mopsa slipped on a pair of huge cat's eye glasses, beaded chains dangling from the earpieces to swing against her shoulders. She pulled the photo from the envelope and pinched her chin, examining it. "It seems familiar," she said. "I think it's my work but I'd need to check the records. Help yourself to the drinks."</p><p>She went to a set of filing cabinets behind the desk. Hermione watched her look into a mirror up in the corner near the ceiling, and nestled closer to Draco, her hand on his thigh. "My love?" she said. </p><p>"Needed something else to call my wife," he muttered. "The other, pet. That's not–That's private. Intimate. If you'd rather I used something else–"</p><p>"No. I like it," she said, dragging one nail along the pinstripe in his trousers. "You can keep calling me that. For this cover."</p><p>He could keep calling her that forever, as far as she was concerned. Two words in his deep voice and she was having to restrain herself from crawling into his lap and begging him to say them again. </p><p>"Do you, um. Do you object to darling?" she asked.</p><p>"All the women in my life call me darling," he said with a shrug. "Actually, let me rephrase. All the <em>important</em> women in my life. My mother, Pansy. And you. I'd say you're very important to me."</p><p>Hermione looked up to see him watching her, his eyes turning dark. He flicked a glance toward the filing cabinets and Mopsa's observation of them in the security mirror, then leaned closer to Hermione. "My love," he said. He twined his fingers in her hair and kissed her. Hermione opened for him, her hand locked around his tie to tug him to her. He made the sound, that throaty sound she adored, and Hermione bit at his lip in response. She wanted to hear him make it again but he pulled away. "We're not alone, Hermione."</p><p>Hermione hid a whimper as she heard Mopsa's chair creak. She pulled away from Draco, pretending the heat in her cheeks was from embarrassment at being caught, to see Mopsa smiling at them with a folder in her hands. "Sorry," Hermione said, fanning herself with one hand. "We, um. We haven't been married long."</p><p>"Feels like minutes," Draco said. He shifted on the settee and closed his eyes for a moment, the pink color fading from his cheeks. Taking a deep breath, he hooked one finger in the knot of his tie and tugged at it. "We're still a little new to this."</p><p>"Have you known each other a long time?" Mopsa asked.</p><p>Draco chuckled. "Since we were kids. We went to the same school. Absolutely hated each other. I insulted her; she slapped me."</p><p>"I did," Hermione said, laughing quietly. "Hard, too. I think he had my handprint on his face for a week."</p><p>"Definitely a couple of days." Draco caught her fingers and pulled her hand up to kiss her knuckles. "Things are a lot different now. We grew up. She believes I'm a better man. I hope that someday I can believe it too."</p><p>"Oh, you two. You remind me of me and my Walter when we were young. We could barely keep our hands off each other." Mopsa smiled at them, then turned her attention to the folder she held. "Yes, that necklace was made here. I made it for a special order in 1988. A long-stemmed, thorned rose, cast in silver, with attachment for use as a pendant. A young man designed it for his girlfriend." </p><p>She read a few more lines of the paper and her face turned sad. "I remember this now. Connor Moore. Such a nice young man. He came in to make the final payment and he was so upset. Who can blame him? It was a tragedy, what happened."</p><p>Draco's arm tightened around Hermione's shoulders. "A tragedy?"</p><p>"The poor girl. Fern Burke, that was her name." Mopsa's handkerchief came out of her sleeve again and she dabbed her eyes. "She was murdered, the very night he gave it to her. When he came to pay it off, I told him to keep his money. I even refunded what he'd already paid. He was devastated and I thought he might–Well, he might need the money to get away."</p><p>"Murdered," Hermione said. She forced her expression into a look of surprise and dismay, as if this was the first time she'd heard this information. "Was she attacked by a stranger? Some random killing?"</p><p>"Oh, that was the worst part," Mopsa said, sighing. "An ex-boyfriend, apparently. What was his name?" She drummed her fingers on the folder. "Edgar. Adam. Something like that, started with a vowel. I looked in the papers for a few weeks after she was killed but I never saw anything about it. But apparently he killed her, the very night that poor Connor was going to ask her to marry him. He'd told me all about how he was going to do it, too. They were going to attend a fancy party, get dressed up, dance. Then he was going to take her for a walk and propose to her. It was all very romantic. To have it end like that? Terrible. Absolutely terrible."</p><p>Hermione met Draco's eyes. He gave a slight, almost invisible nod, and turned his attention to Mopsa. "Then I think we won't have a copy of that pendant made," he said, rubbing Hermione's shoulder. "Bad luck. Wouldn't want anything to put a damper on our relationship. Not when it's taken us so long to get to this point."</p><p>Draco leaned forward and put his hand on Mopsa's arm. He lowered his voice and murmured something with a smile. Mopsa sat still.</p><p>Very still.</p><p>Hermione stared at the unmoving, unblinking Mopsa, then whipped her head around to look at Draco. </p><p>"She's fine," he said without removing his hand from her arm. "Make a duplicate of that record and do it fast. The spell only lasts for a few seconds."</p><p>"What is that?" Even as she asked, Hermione was moving. She pulled her wand out and tapped the folder, creating an exact copy of the page which she quickly folded up and stuffed into her skirt pocket.</p><p>"Auror jinx. We don't use it much, since it requires contact and we rarely want to get that close to a suspect, but it occasionally comes in handy. It won't hold her for long, just–" Draco nodded at Mopsa again and patted her fingers when she blinked. He took the folder out of her hands and closed it, setting it on the small table next to the drinks tray. "Thank you," he said. "We appreciate you showing us some of your work."</p><p>Mopsa rubbed her forehead and took her glasses off to give them a confused look. "Need to have my prescription checked," she said with a soft laugh. "For a minute there, it looked like you'd gone blurry. Oh, well. Is there anything else I can do for the two of you?"</p><p>"I think my wife and I will check one or two more shops but you're our front-runner so far. I've heard nothing but good things about Gordon Jewelers and it seems I heard correctly. If we save a little, I think we'll be able to come in under budget. The wedding did cut into our funds." He turned to Hermione, hesitating before giving her a slow smile. "But it was worth it. I didn't think I could ever deserve to have a woman like this in my life. I'd give her everything."</p><p>Hermione felt her cheeks heating. Draco's expression was uncharacteristically open. Even his eyes had softened. Before Hermione could let herself think about her action or her words, she cradled his cheek and looked deep into his eyes. "He already does give me everything. Every time he smiles at me, my heart races," she said. "And when he holds me, I <em>know</em> I'm safe with him."</p><p>He watched her, seeming to search her face, then closed his eyes and leaned back. "It's a fairy tale," he said in a low voice. "A complete fantasy."</p><p>Mopsa gave a dreamy sigh. "Young love. Nothing like it." She clapped her hands and stood. Draco looked at Hermione for a moment longer, then stood as well. Mopsa grinned. "Such manners. You do your mother proud, young man."</p><p>"I've always tried." Draco held his hand out to Hermione to help her up. "Did we need anything else?"</p><p>She put her arm around his waist and leaned her head on his arm, not wanting to let go of this alteration of their previous cover story. Not just yet. "No," she said. "I have everything I need right here, with you." </p><p>Draco stiffened for a moment, then slowly put his arm around her shoulders. "My thoughts exactly," he said.</p><p>Hermione stayed in the circle of Draco's arm as they said their farewells and left the shop. They walked in silence to a small public garden, the same place she'd Apparated to when she arrived. Without speaking, Hermione climbed up on a concrete planter box to look into Draco's eyes. "I'm sorry," she said before he could do more than give her a curious lift of his brows. She put her arms over his shoulders and laced her hands together behind his neck. "You said you were okay with that married cover story but you were tense nearly the entire time we were in there. I shouldn't have made that change without running it by you first. It was too much."</p><p>Draco stood still, his hands at his sides. A muscle jumped in his cheek as he looked away from her. "You're right," he said after a silence long enough to make her heart stutter. "I was wrong. It was too much. That's not something I want to fake. It's not–" </p><p>He shook his head. "I can't be false about that, Hermione. If I call a woman my wife, it should be because she is. That's–I can't–I won't say the entire concept of marriage is sacred to me, but I take it very seriously. The next time I say 'you're my wife', there should be a ring exchanged and a vow made. I can't <em>pretend</em>. I don't want to. I want it to be true, when I say it."</p><p>She watched his face. His words sounded off, like there was something he was holding back. A thought pressed at the edge of her mind and she shoved it away, her throat tightening. She told herself she was imagining things, letting her own fantasies have too much sway. "I'm sorry," she said again. "I didn't realize it meant that much to you. We'll stick with the story we have, for everything. It's not even a cover story, not anymore. We're dating. Really dating. We're together."</p><p>She combed her fingers through his hair and tipped to rest her forehead against his, half-afraid he'd pull away from her, but he brought his hands up to settle on her hips. </p><p>"We're together," he echoed. "That's true. That's real. I'm not pretending about that." He angled his head and kissed her, a light touch of his lips to hers. </p><p>Hermione trembled as she exhaled. She didn't understand why pretending to be husband and wife was so different to Draco than pretending to be boyfriend and girlfriend had been, but it was clear there was a line to him. That gentle kiss of his had reassured her that she hadn't damaged their relationship as it stood with her own imaginary roles. </p><p>She gripped the back of his head and kissed him in return, much harder. Draco made that soft, throaty sound, and wrapped his arms around her, his fingers hot even through the thick cotton of her shirt. He took her lip between his teeth, nipping gently, before pulling away. This time Hermione did whimper aloud, and Draco gave a quiet laugh. "Patience, pet," he told her for the second time that day. "We have weekend plans."</p><p>She blinked at him, trying to gather her thoughts. "Oh," she managed. "Yes. Good. Then I didn't–with today, I was worried–"</p><p>Draco kissed the corner of her eye. "A little disagreement," he said. "Not going to stop me from wanting to have you. I want to be very clear and very honest. No taps, no cover story, no pretending." He kissed across her cheek to whisper to her ear. "After the ball?"</p><p>He nipped her earlobe, tugging as he spoke. "I'm going to have you under me. I'm going to slide inside you and make you truly mine."</p><p>Hermione moaned, her knees buckling. Draco caught her in his arms and held her close. "Back to the Ministry," he muttered, laughing deep in his throat as he steadied her on the ground. "We have work to do, pet."</p><p>Shivering with need and desire, Hermione looked up at him. She wrapped her arms around his waist. "My turn," she said. Draco spun with her and they Disapparated in a blur of bright colors.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco examined the bottles and carafes, considered the brandy, then glanced at the closed bedroom door and selected whiskey. The neck of the bottle rattled against his glass as he poured. When he set the bottle down, he flexed his fingers in an effort to ease the shake out of them. "For god's sake, man," he muttered to himself. "You weren't this nervous your first time."</p>
<p>Then again, he thought, back then he hadn't been planning a seduction of a woman he'd been wanting for three years. For weeks, he and Hermione had been teasing each other, dancing around this possibility, both of them thinking the other wasn't interested. Thinking the other was only acting. Building a tension that neither of them expected would be released.  </p>
<p>Now, they'd learned better, moved past that misunderstanding and realized they wanted each other, and proceeded to lean even further into teasing. The day before, he'd caught Hermione in the archives and picked her up for a kiss that turned into one of the most fervent moments he'd had in his life. </p>
<p>It wasn't until he'd received a strange look from a clerk dropping off the post at his desk that he'd realized Hermione had popped one of the buttons off his shirt in her rush to get her hands on his skin. </p>
<p>
  <i>We shouldn't, not at work, he murmurs into her hair, and Hermione's gripping his collar, pulling herself up, skirt rising to her hips as she wraps her legs around him. Clinging to her, kissing deep, reaching up to take off his glasses. No, she's grabbing his wrist and staring into his eyes, leave them on. Shoving her back against the wall, hands sliding up her thighs, grinding against her. She's biting his lip, pleading with him in heavy whispers. One hand under her skirt, one hand over her mouth to muffle her cries.</i>
</p>
<p>All he'd been able to smell for the next three hours had been salt and musk and <em>Hermione</em> and every time he so much as thought about what they'd done, his glasses started to fog over. He hadn't been able to concentrate at all. Not when he knew that was a prelude to what they intended to do later.</p>
<p>Tonight.</p>
<p>He settled into the Chesterfield sofa, careful not to crumple the points of his shirt collar. Sipping his whiskey, he watched the bedroom door. Hermione had been very firm that she wanted her dress to be a surprise. He knew it was blue, but that was it.</p>
<p>Draco drummed his fingers on the three velvet cases sitting on the table next to his elbow. Blue, so he'd chosen sapphires out of the vaults. He'd included his favorite: a single, large sapphire surrounded by diamonds, with earrings to match. If she hesitated, the other two choices were much simpler. </p>
<p>Shockingly more expensive, but simpler. </p>
<p>Draco lit a cigarette with a snap of his fingers and adjusted the set of his bow tie. A small program had been waiting on the bed when they arrived, detailing the night's schedule and events. Draco wasn't certain what demonstrations Hermione might want to see, though he suspected wax and ropes would play at least some part. </p>
<p>He didn't object to that, but he had to admit, he had his own ideas for her. He'd looked over her marked-up pamphlet again, paying close attention to how enthusiastic her circles, stars, and underlines seemed to be, using that as a guide for his plans.</p>
<p>Draco leaned his head back on the sofa to blow a smoke ring at the ceiling, trying not to remember the last time he'd been sitting in this spot. Hermione kneeling between his legs, her hand moving, her tongue flickering–</p>
<p>He grunted and rubbed his forehead, then dropped his hand and rubbed his twitching cock. Even thinking about her had him hardening. "Slow it down," he told himself, and drained his whiskey. "You've got all night."</p>
<p>The door clicked open. Draco exhaled smoke through both nostrils and sat up to look as Hermione walked into the room.</p>
<p>He stopped breathing. </p>
<p>Hermione's dress looked as if it had been charmed on, fitting every curve of her body. The neckline dipped low on her breasts; a slit up one leg reached to her hip. Black gloves with lace cuffs just above her elbows; black, tall heels.</p>
<p>And as far as he could tell, those were the only things she was wearing. Dress, gloves, heels. </p>
<p>Draco wet his lips and swallowed hard, cigarette abandoned in the ashtray. He wiped his palms on the cushions of the sofa as he pushed himself to his feet. "You–" he tried. Rubbing his hand over his mouth, he cleared his throat. "You look amazing."</p>
<p>"As do you," she said. "Not that you don't always look amazing. Your tailor really is a genius."</p>
<p>She met him in the center of the room and slid both hands up his chest, feeling along the edges of his lapels. "Tonight," she said, her voice a touch uneven. "No more waiting, no more interruptions. Or god help me–"</p>
<p>Draco smiled. "Absolutely no interruptions. I put my badge in Potter's hand and informed him that if anything less than the end of the world happened tonight, I was not interested in hearing about it." He ran one finger under the narrow strap of her dress, following it down to stroke along her neckline and into the valley between her breasts. "I have plans."</p>
<p>Hermione took a deep breath. She cupped his cheeks and drew him down for a kiss. "Draco," she whispered against his lips. "I can't even begin to describe the things I want you to do to me."</p>
<p>Draco growled deep in his throat. "You know we don't have to go downstairs," he said. "We could always have our own party, right here."</p>
<p>Hermione pulled back and smiled at him, her eyes lit with a mischievous gleam. "Patience, Sir," she said. </p>
<p>"Wicked witch." Draco released her. He picked up one of the jewelry cases and cracked it open. Hermione's brows shot up. Her eyes went wide and almost frightened, and Draco closed the case. "Too much, then."</p>
<p>"I didn't say anything."</p>
<p>"You didn't have to. Your face said enough." He considered the remaining two cases, then selected the one with his favorite. He opened it and Hermione's mouth shaped 'oh' without any sound. She stared for several seconds, then slowly brushed her fingers over the sapphire. </p>
<p>When she looked up at him, Draco spoke before she could protest. "Don't say you couldn't possibly. You can. And I would very much like for you to wear this."</p>
<p>"I could lose it. Or–or damage it somehow."</p>
<p>"Then it will have still served its purpose. It will have spent time around the neck of the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." </p>
<p>Hermione's eyes brightened. She gave him a small, pleased smile and held her hair off her neck.</p>
<p>Draco lifted the necklace up and set the case aside as he moved behind Hermione. He settled the sapphire in the hollow between her collarbones and held the ends of the necklace together, whispering a charm. The diamond chain shimmered to form a perfect circle. </p>
<p>He caught Hermione's shoulders and bent down to kiss the back of her neck. Her scent surrounded him. Jasmine, amber, that slight hint of cinnamon, and beneath it, the intoxicating scent of her skin.</p>
<p>She put the earrings on, touching them with a curious look over her shoulder. "Charms," Draco said. "So they don't get heavy over the course of the night. You'd be amazed how many society wives had stretched earlobes before someone thought of it. Mum helped with that."</p>
<p>
  <i>If you come home before dawn, my dragon, I will be terribly disappointed with you. Mother, I– You have been smiling again, Draco. Shaking hands caressing his cheek, grey eyes filling with tears. You have no idea of how much I have missed your smile. My son is in love. Now you must do everything in your power to make her happy. I will, Mum.</i>
</p>
<p>Shaking off the memory, Draco took a deep breath and straightened up. "There, er. There will be a lot more going on downstairs than a typical night here," he said. "The rules are relaxed. As usual, we won't do anything you don't want. You just say the word and–"</p>
<p>"Draco." Hermione turned in his arms. She dragged one finger down his shirt and under his jacket to flatten her palm against his zipper. She squeezed gently, pulling a grunt from him. "The only words you have to worry about hearing from me tonight are please, Sir, more."</p>
<p>She laced her fingers in his and smiled up at him. "And believe me, Draco. You'll be hearing those a lot."</p>
<hr/>
<p>The main hall was beautiful, full of candles and flowers. The elaborate candelabras were as tall as Draco; the tables around the hall were festooned with vases of roses. Several alcoves had been formed along the walls, with red curtains tied to marble pillars. Hermione watched a woman in a dress made entirely of black lace lower to her knees in one of the alcoves, hands held behind her back as her partner unzipped his trousers. In another, a pair of women ran their hands over a third. Everywhere she looked, people were playing with each other, pairs and groups of every configuration.</p>
<p>She clung to Draco's arm, her heart pounding. The night they'd been here and watched the wax play, she'd given in and let him bring her off in public.</p>
<p>Not let him, she told herself. Encouraged him. <em>Begged</em> him. </p>
<p>She planned for that and more tonight. Draco had been clear all along about his reasons for coming to this club. He liked to show off. She didn't know exactly what she was going to do in the crowd of people, but he would get his chance.</p>
<p>Draco nodded to a dance floor at the far end of the hall. "Shall we start there?" He led her onto the floor as the next song began.</p>
<p>Hermione had expected Draco would know how to dance. It was one of those skills that someone like him would be trained to have, but she hadn't anticipated that he wouldn't actually be good at it. She grinned up at him after he lost count of the steps for the fifth time.</p>
<p>"I know," he said, rolling his eyes. "Put me on a broom and it's like I'm born to it. Put me on a dance floor and I might as well have seven feet. My instructor wept on a daily basis." </p>
<p>"Then why did you ask me to dance?"</p>
<p>He turned her around, pulling her close to his chest with his fingers spread across her stomach. Lifting her hand, he pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. "Because I wasn't going to miss out on the first chance I had to dance with you. I'm not going to miss <em>any</em> chances with you from now on. Besides, I assumed you'd like to dance and I want you to have everything you want."</p>
<p>Hermione tipped her head back against his shoulder. "I do like to dance. We'll have to practice. Dinner and dancing at Le Sorcier." She smiled, angling her head to see his face. "Start reserving it more than one night a month."</p>
<p>"Does give us some privacy," he said. "Which, you'll be surprised to learn, makes me a better dancer. I'm far smoother when there's not an audience."</p>
<p>She laughed. "I thought you liked to be watched."</p>
<p>Draco gave her a slow and promising smile that made her breath catch. "That's an entirely different kind of 'dancing', pet," he said, his voice dropping into a rumble. "And I do very much like to be watched for that."</p>
<p>She arched her back, rubbing her arse against him. Draco's hand tightened on her stomach as she felt his cock stir. "You'll get what you want," she murmured, lowering her voice as the music ended. "What you like."</p>
<p>She heard him take a deep breath. "That's promising," he said. He hooked his thumb in the neckline of her dress, fingers brushing up her ribs to ghost across her breasts. Hermione sank her teeth into her lower lip and held back a whimper.</p>
<p>Tightening her grip on his hand, she led him off the dance floor to a long table off to one side. The staff member behind the table poured glasses of champagne for each of them. Hermione sipped hers, leaning back against Draco with his arm around her waist, and watched Madame Berkely climb onto a small stage. </p>
<p>"Good evening, all," Madame Berkely said, her voice enhanced by a charm. "And welcome to Chaswell House. I'm pleased to see all of you, and to see so much of some of you." The crowd laughed; a few people, dressed by the merest technicalities, gave waves of acknowledgement. "Tonight we celebrate. This year's new members, for the first time, have been more than half Muggle-born. The Rose Ball is our declaration of welcome for witches and wizards of any bloodline, and I'm certain I speak for all the staff when I say I'm delighted to have you here, whether pure-blood, half-blood, or Muggle-born.</p>
<p>"I'm also delighted," Madame Berkely continued, "to announce that tonight is a special occasion for two of our guests. You may know them as Butterfly and Foxglove, and tonight, Butterfly is taking the plunge."</p>
<p>A roar rose up from the group. Two men stepped up to join Madame Berkely.</p>
<p>Hermione pressed her shoulders against Draco as she watched one of the men kneel. "What's going on?" she asked.</p>
<p>Draco kept his voice soft. "A collaring. He's declaring total submission to his, er. Depending on the terms they've agreed to, he's putting everything, all his choices and decisions, in his–his. In the other one's control."</p>
<p>Hermione closed her eyes. She knew the word he couldn't bring himself to say. <em>Master</em>. It only had one meaning for him, and it was a painful one. She'd heard many people in the club use Master or My Lord for their dominant partner and every time, she'd sensed Draco hiding a flinch. She reached up and settled her hand on the back of his neck. </p>
<p>"I'm–" Draco said. From the corner of her eye, she saw him drain his glass and hand it to a passing waiter. He put both arms around her, fingers laced tightly together over her stomach. "I can handle this, pet. It's voluntary, for them." </p>
<p>Hermione drank her champagne slowly, watching the two men go through what resembled a wedding ceremony, with vows of service and responsibility and a collar and leash in place of rings. Both men had broad grins after a deep and sloppy kiss, and they seemed happy. Madame Berkely gave them each a rose as the music started again. </p>
<p>Behind her, Draco was tense. He had his head bowed, and she could feel his chest move as he took slow breaths, inhaling her perfume. He was doing well to keep himself calm, but she knew that she could distract him from his memories even further.</p>
<p>She laid one hand over his fingers, then pulled his hand up to rest between her breasts. She sipped from her glass and tugged her dress low. The pleated fabric of the bodice slipped beneath her breasts, leaving her exposed.</p>
<p>Her nipples peaked as the air struck them. Draco, looking down over her shoulder, flexed his fingers and made a quiet sound. "Please, Sir," Hermione said without moving.</p>
<p>Draco covered her with both hands. He kneaded her breasts, his palms rubbing over her nipples. His long fingers explored every inch, stroked around and over her curves, laid a trail of heat on her skin.</p>
<p>She wet her lips, the empty champagne flute trembling in her hand. A waiter appeared, holding a tray out, and Hermione nearly flung her glass onto the tray. The waiter grinned at her and weaved through the crowd.</p>
<p>A few people noticed Draco's actions and a small open space formed in front of them. A few people turned away from watching the dance floor to watch her in Draco's arms. Hermione quivered when Draco moved his hands enough to let their watchers see what he was doing. Her nipples tightened further at the mix of approval and envy she saw on some faces.</p>
<p>Shifting one foot to widen her stance, she tipped her head back. "More."</p>
<p>Draco dragged one hand down her side, finding the slit in her dress. He drew his fingers over her thigh and beneath the silk to cup her in his palm. He teased along her folds, a slow back and forth with the lightest pressure. One finger slipped between them to find her clit as he pinched her nipple.</p>
<p>Hermione yelped and clenched at Draco's forearm. Her cheeks burned. A few more people turned to watch them.</p>
<p>Draco dipped down to kiss the curve of her neck. "What do you want?" he murmured to her. "Do you want me to get you off? Just like this, pet?" </p>
<p>She shuddered. It was an echo of what he'd said to her the day before in the archives, and she'd been halfway to orgasm before his fingers had even slid inside her. She reacted the same way now, spreading her thighs and holding on to him. "Please, Sir," she said, her voice quivering. "Please."</p>
<p>Draco's laugh was low and dark. He pushed his finger into her, <em>barely</em> into her, and withdrew. "No," he said. "Not just yet. I want you to wait."</p>
<p>Hermione whimpered as he pulled his hand from under her dress to lick his fingers. She had a quick memory of circling one word in the club's pamphlet, a small exclamation point drawn next to it.</p>
<p><em>Edging</em>.</p>
<p>"You're a bastard," she whispered, mingled hope and frustration rising in her voice.</p>
<p>Draco pinched her nipples hard. "What was that?"</p>
<p>"You're a bastard, Sir," she replied.</p>
<p>"That's my good girl." Draco bit the top curve of her ear and pulled the neckline of her dress back into place. "And now we're going upstairs. The shibari room has a demonstration in five minutes."</p>
<hr/>
<p>Draco stood behind Hermione, one hand beneath the slit of her dress. Every few moments, he gave a slow twitch of his fingers. Each time, Hermione trembled. Her cheeks were stained red and she had a tight grip on his sleeve. She kept her eyes on the demonstrators, watching as a woman wrapped in ropes was carefully hoisted into position, arms and legs spread wide. </p>
<p>Looking down through his lashes, Draco saw Hermione sink her teeth into her lip. He moved his fingers on either side of her clit and she quivered. He smiled to himself, set his free hand over her stomach to pull her tight to him, and picked up speed as he stroked her. </p>
<p>Her head fell back, eyes drifting closed. "Please," she muttered. "Please, Sir. Inside me."</p>
<p>She'd taken his slow petting for more than ten minutes, and Draco decided she'd earned a small reward. He stretched his fingers and slid one into her, pausing halfway. Hermione whimpered and wriggled her hips. </p>
<p>Draco stifled a grunt. He knew she could feel him twitching each time she moved her arse against him. She was teasing him as much as he was teasing her. </p>
<p>He slid his finger deep into her, rubbing over her G-spot deliberately. Hermione yelped and scrabbled at his arm, her thighs closing around his hand for a moment before she relaxed. Draco stroked her fast, already familiar with the touch that aroused her the most. His memory flashed through the way her breathing shifted, the little sounds that she made as she approached orgasm, and when he felt her inner muscles flutter around his finger, he stopped.</p>
<p>He pulled his hand away, patting her thigh as she keened a protest. "Patience, pet," he said, hiding a grin in her hair. "Not so soon."</p>
<p>"When?" she mumbled, pressing back to him. "Want to."</p>
<p>"I know you do." Draco set both hands on her hips and pulled her to him, rocking against her in a slow rhythm. "But I want you to wait, pet. Wait until you can't take it anymore."</p>
<p>He turned her around and bent down to kiss her, tongue brushing her lower lip. "Can you do that? Can you hold on for me?"</p>
<p>She stared into his eyes and nodded. "I'll try, Draco. I've never–I'll try."</p>
<p>"That's all I ask." Draco kissed her again, both hands on her arse to lift her up. She flung her arms around his neck and held on, a soft moan breaking out of her. Draco kissed her until she shuddered for breath, then lowered her to her feet.</p>
<p>"Come on," he said, taking her hand. "Next demonstration."</p>
<hr/>
<p>The next hour was mostly a blur for Hermione. She knew Draco was leading her through the club, stopping to watch various demonstrations or to make sure she was comfortable and hydrated, but it was all fuzzy and distant to her. All she could focus on was Draco. </p>
<p>His mouth sucking at her throat.</p>
<p>His tongue dragging across the sweep of her collarbone. </p>
<p>His hands roaming her body: teasing her nipples into sharp points, spreading her labia open to stroke her clit, pumping inside her until she was close to coming.</p>
<p><em>So</em> close, so often, and every time she was nearly there, he stopped. In the wax room, he'd sucked on her nipples until they were red and swollen. In the flogging room, he'd held her on his lap and guided her to touch herself, pulling her hand away when she started breathing heavier. In the lounge, he'd stood her in front of him as he sat on a low bench, and he'd licked her until she was dripping down her thighs.</p>
<p>He brought her closer and closer, building need inside her and letting it fall away, building again until she was certain one more touch would push her over the edge.</p>
<p>And he'd stopped. <em>Every</em> time.</p>
<p>By the time he led her back to the main hall, her legs were shaking. She clung to his waist, quivering with every step. "Draco," she said, hardly recognizing her own voice through the haze of need. "Draco, I can't–I can't take any more. No more, please. <em>Please</em>, Sir."</p>
<p>"It's all right, pet," he said, his hand under her hair to cradle the back of her neck. "You've done so well. It's time." </p>
<p>Draco walked her to an alcove and settled into a deep velvet-covered sofa. He pulled her down beside him. "So good," he said, resting his hand on her bared thigh. "You've done such a good job, pet. You lasted a lot longer than I thought you would. I'm very proud of you."</p>
<p>Hermione wrapped both arms around his shoulders. She burrowed against him, his pulse fast under her mouth. "Don't make me wait any longer," she said in between nips to the black prisoner tattoo on his neck. She yanked his bow tie loose and wrenched his collar open to kiss down his throat. "Please, Draco. I want to come."</p>
<p>Draco growled, a sound that shot straight through her. If she hadn't already been wet from his attentions, that noise would have done the trick. She raised up on her knees to look into his face. "Draco. <em>Sir</em>. Make me come. Show everyone out there that you're the only man who can make me scream."</p>
<p>Draco's eyes flashed black in a heartbeat. He twisted, taking her onto her back, and stretched out between her and the back of the sofa. Grabbing a fistful of her dress, he hauled the skirt up to her waist and shoved her thighs apart. "Mine," he rumbled, ducking to bite her jaw. He caught her mouth, kissed her fiercely, and slipped his fingers between her folds, rubbing until she felt the band of his signet ring grind against her clit.</p>
<p>She squealed, bucking against his hand, and Draco lifted his head to stare at her, his brows raised in surprise. "Turn it," she whimpered, grabbing his shirt. "The ring. <em>Turn</em> it."</p>
<p>Draco's mouth curled into one of the most wicked, lustful smirks she'd ever seen. She felt his thumb moving, the band of his ring spinning, and when he touched her again, the ridge of the signet pressed hard on her clit. She could almost feel each line of the M as he touched her, and her skin flared hot and tingling at the thought. It was some odd combination of the unusual sensation of the metal against her clit and the deep, wicked satisfaction that Draco's ancestors would be horrified if they saw what he was doing with that ring.</p>
<p>To her.</p>
<p>Hermione clutched the dangling ends of Draco's bow tie, crushing them in her fist, and held on tight as he shifted his hand to slide one finger inside her. "More," she pleaded, trying to kiss whatever part of him she could reach. "More, Draco, please. Don't make me wait any longer."</p>
<p>Draco growled again. He bent over her as he stroked inside her, deep and probing kisses that matched the rhythm of his hand, finger rubbing her G-spot, heel of his thumb grinding on her clit. </p>
<p>Hermione's body responded, tingles in her nerves and heat on her skin. She could hear herself begging for more, keening for him to push her over the edge, don't stop, don't stop and–</p>
<p>"Good girl," Draco murmured to her. "Come for me, pet."</p>
<p>Hermione shattered, back arching, legs shaking. She fought to keep her eyes open, to see the look of pride on Draco's face, but he kept touching her, pushing her into a second climb. Her heart pounded. </p>
<p>Draco whispered to her as his fingers worked inside her. "Good girl," he said, in that low, deep rumble. "My precious, beautiful pet. You're so good to me. One more, Hermione. For me." </p>
<p>He pressed his signet to her clit and Hermione came again.</p>
<p>Distantly, she heard Draco groan. She groped for his wrist, pulling weakly at his hand. He let her guide him, another groan muffled into her hair when she kissed his fingers and licked him clean.</p>
<p>She thought she should feel exhausted, wrung out, but she felt electrified. She could hear voices and gentle applause, a few words of congratulations to Draco, several words of praise for her. All of it made her blood warm.</p>
<p>When she opened her eyes and Draco smiled at her, kissed her gently and said "I'm proud of you", her blood ran hot.</p>
<p>He helped her to sit up, sprawling beside her with his hand resting low on his stomach. "Need to rest for a minute?" he asked her.</p>
<p>Hermione shook her head. "More, Sir," she replied. She could see the outline of his cock beneath his trousers, the length of him showing against his thigh and drawing the fabric tight. He liked to be watched, but both times they'd played here in public, she'd been the recipient. It was his turn.</p>
<p>Draco's brows raised as Hermione stood and held her hands out to him. She pulled him up and walked him out of the alcove to one of the wide velvet chairs in the center of the hall. Draco wet his lips, watching her face, then looked up over her head to the people turning interested looks in their direction.</p>
<p>He flicked open the button of his jacket, unfastened his cummerbund and dropped it on the chair behind him, then unbuttoned the waistband of his trousers. Hermione set her hands on his, stopping him from lowering the zipper.</p>
<p>She did that for him, taking her time about it, never looking away from his eyes. They were already dark and full of heat, but when she reached inside his trousers and stroked his cock, his eyes turned molten. </p>
<p>Hermione went to her knees, ensuring that the view was unobstructed, and carefully eased Draco's cock out. She heard a few muttered curses, startled exclamations, and jealous sputters, and she grinned up at Draco before easing his foreskin back enough to lick the head.</p>
<p>Draco jerked, throbbing in her hand. His lashes fluttered as she pushed at his hips. He dropped onto the chair, knees spread wide around her, and leaned back on his hands. </p>
<p>She bowed her head over him, opening wide as she pulled her hair over one shoulder. She wasn't as familiar with his responses as he was with hers, but it didn't seem to matter. From the sound of his breathing and the tight grip he'd taken on the velvet cushion, she was doing well. She kept her movements slow, wanting to draw the moment out for him. If he liked to show off, to be watched and envied, she'd give that to him.</p>
<p>Wrapping her hand around his length, she stroked him, eyes closed to concentrate on the solid weight of him against her tongue, the heat of him in her hands. She fastened around the tip, sucking gently, and fluttered her tongue over him. </p>
<p>Relaxing her throat, she tipped her head and went down as far as she dared. Draco swore, a deep rumble that started to shake as she took half of him into her mouth.</p>
<p>It hurt to smile with her mouth stretched open, she discovered. She rather liked it.</p>
<p>He shifted, a soft groan reaching her, and she opened her eyes to see his head fall back, mouth opening for a shuddering exhale. He went to his elbows, hips lifting off the chair. A swipe of her tongue across the glans gave her the taste of salt, a small bead of liquid forming at the tip, and Hermione drew up to place a delicate kiss to the head.</p>
<p>"Patience, Sir," she said. "Not so soon."</p>
<p>"Fuck," Draco muttered to the ceiling. "Revenge."</p>
<p>A smattering of laughs came from their audience, and Hermione grinned as she gave Draco one last stroke. "I'll let you put the dragon away," she said, and the laughs grew louder, accompanied by a few appreciative whistles.</p>
<p>Draco groped at his cock without looking, getting his trousers zipped with some difficulty. The head poked above his waistband and he rubbed it with one finger as he watched her. </p>
<p>She put her hands on his thighs to push to her feet, stopped mid-motion when she heard the sound of delicate silk ripping.</p>
<p>The spikes of her heels had caught in her dress as she knelt. Hermione looked down to see the skirt cleanly separated from the bodice, puddling around her legs. </p>
<p>Hermione blushed deeply, ducking her head to let her hair fall in front of her face. Playing in the club's upper rooms, screaming Draco's name with a handful of people looking on, sucking him while surrounded by onlookers? That was all erotic. Being watched, watching <em>him</em> be watched, was arousing. </p>
<p>This was different. Even he hadn't seen her completely naked yet, and she didn't want his first look at her to be in the middle of a crowd of strangers. She wanted to watch his eyes widen, hear his voice catch, feel his hands tremble when he saw her bare for him, and she knew he would never let himself be that vulnerable in public. She knew he could be unguarded, but not here. Not until they were alone and he could trust he was safe to let her see.</p>
<p>She tugged the skirt fabric across her thighs and tried to hold her bodice over her breasts. "Draco, I–"</p>
<p>A heavy weight fell on her shoulders and she grabbed at the lapels of Draco's jacket before slipping her arms into the sleeves and pulling it closed. "Thank you," she murmured. "I was going to ask."</p>
<p>He bundled the jacket around her as he helped her to her feet. The bottom of it fell to her knees. "You never have to ask," he said quietly, pulling her close to him. "If you need me, Hermione, I will be there for you."</p>
<p>He looked at her with concern, then cradled her cheeks and bent to kiss her, slow and light. "I will take care of you and protect you as long as you allow me, Hermione. You will always be safe with me. You're <em>mine</em>."</p>
<p>She stared into his eyes, shivering at the determination she saw in them, the echo of her own thoughts in his voice. She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, stroked her fingers down his nape, and kissed him. "Mine. Draco, I–" She leaned her head against his chest for a moment in efforts to catch her breath. His declaration had her trembling more than his hands and tongue had done. </p>
<p>Gathering herself, she straightened.  She met his eyes and dragged her fingers over his mouth. "I can't wait any longer. I need you."</p>
<p>He stood still for a few seconds, then growled and swept her up into his arms. He strode for the door, a path clearing in front of him, her torn skirt and his cummerbund abandoned behind them.</p>
<hr/>
<p>He left the main hall with her in his arms, his jacket covering her from shoulder to knees. At the lift door, she wriggled, and he started to put her down, but she got her legs around his waist and held on. She kissed him, both hands gripping the ends of his undone bow tie, and they stumbled into the lift.</p>
<p>The quick ride was a blur to him. All his focus, all his attention was on Hermione. Every breath was full of jasmine, amber, and sex. He clung to her with one arm, flailing his wrist and charmed bracelet at the door, and kicked it shut behind him. </p>
<p>As soon as it slammed shut, Hermione pulled his jacket off and dropped it to the floor, heels kicked away. "Draco," she said, tugging at his hair. "I thought–I thought you wanted–that you liked–"</p>
<p>Draco growled, pushing her against the wall. "No one," he said. He ducked to bite her throat. "No one but me is <em>ever</em> going to know what you look like the first time I'm inside you."</p>
<p>Hermione's arms went limp as she moaned. </p>
<p>Draco pinned her to the wall with his hips and tore his shirt open, onyx studs flying. He heard a seam rip and ignored it to get the ruined bodice of Hermione's dress off her shoulders. He held her in place, naked but for her gloves and his jewels, and stroked both hands up her sides. "God, you're beautiful," he said. He traced a shaky line across the tops of her breasts and down to circle her navel, watching her stomach tense and quiver at his touch.</p>
<p>He pulled her arms over her head and wrapped one hand around both wrists, enclosing her arms. Slowly, he reached down and dragged his hand up her leg, his fingers smoothing along the curve of her hip and to the inside of her thigh. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he murmured. "How long you've been driving me mad?"</p>
<p>"It's mutual." She twisted her hands. When he tightened his grip, her eyes flashed hot. "I've spent so many nights dreaming about this. I need more." She licked her lips and took a deep breath. "I need <em>you</em>."</p>
<p>Draco slipped his hand between her thighs, cupping her cunt. One finger instantly slid into her, and he growled at the heat inside her. She was wet, so slick from his attentions over the course of the night that he could push into her without hesitation. He added a second finger, gave a slight twist, then made the attempt at a third. </p>
<p>The stretch of that made her hiss, her head thumping against the wall. "You can take it," Draco murmured to her, dipping his head to set his teeth into the upper curve of her ear. "You can take it, pet. You'll have to, if you want me."</p>
<p>"God, I know," she muttered. Draco stroked his thumb across her clit and she keened, gloved fingers clawing at the wall over her head.</p>
<p>He leaned forward, kissing her, tongue sweeping across her lip. "Good," he murmured. "Good girl, pet. Just like that." She whined, grinding down on his hand, panting for air each time he slid two fingers out of her and tried for the third.</p>
<p>Hermione dug her knees into his ribs, her head rocking against the wall. "More," she said. "Please." She opened her eyes, looking into his. "<em>Please</em>, Draco."</p>
<p>Draco groaned into her mouth, his hand twisting between her thighs. His thumb circled her clit, fast and faster, pressing it into her. He released her wrists to slide his free hand between their bodies to her breast, covering it entirely, her nipple prodding into his palm. He drew his fingers together, pinching down, and Hermione yelped and bucked on his hand. On Draco's next slide into her, he went easily, her cunt loosened around him. Immediately, he shifted, his third finger sliding up and filling her.</p>
<p>Hermione moaned, head falling forward. She rested it on his shoulder, looking down between them, watching his fingers slide into her body. His thumb never stopped moving; his fingers crooked and turned inside her. He bent his head, cheek pressing to hers, talking to her as he stroked her.</p>
<p>"Like that, pet. You're perfect, you're doing so well. So good, so hot, so wet. You're so beautiful." He rubbed his thumb over her clit, fingers pumping in her. "Such a good girl. You're ready."</p>
<p>Hermione nodded frantically. "Please. Now. Draco, I can't–" She broke off with a sobbing sound, her hands locked behind his neck.</p>
<p>He unzipped his trousers and shoved them down, too full of need to bother stripping. His cock stood up against his bare stomach, the head flushed red, a small bead of fluid at the tip. "No pretending," he said, drawing his fingers out of her. He licked one clean, his eyelashes fluttering, then pressed the rest to her lips. </p>
<p>Hermione opened, taking his fingers into her mouth, licking her own juices off his skin. He knew what she was tasting, musk and salt from her body, the hint of tobacco and caramel from his cigarettes. Draco watched her eyes, fucking her mouth with his hand. She swirled her tongue around his knuckles, hollowed her cheeks and sucked hard as he drew out with a soft pop.</p>
<p>"No pretense, no cover story." He reached down, grabbing himself, rubbing the tip of his cock against her, up and down, each slide pushing her labia farther apart, slipping over her clit and teasing at her entrance. He paused, the tip of him <em>just</em> stretching her open. He looked into her eyes. "No acting. I want you. I've wanted–years, Hermione. Seeing you, all the time, not knowing you wanted–"</p>
<p>She kissed his brows when his voice faded. "Draco," she murmured into his heated skin. "I've wanted this as long as you have. Make me yours."</p>
<p>Draco pushed into her. She moaned, ankles locked behind his back. He'd barely entered her before he withdrew, slowly, <em>achingly</em> slowly pushing in again. Hermione pressed her shoulders to the wall, bearing down to open herself more for his cock. </p>
<p>Draco settled both hands on her waist, wrapping his fingers around her, and guided her down. He stayed still, held his position, and gently eased her onto him.</p>
<p>Even dripping wet, he was a tight fit inside her. Draco pulled her down carefully, head bowed, watching her open for him, take him in. She hissed and he stopped halfway, looking up to her. "God," he muttered, voice almost a guttural sound. "So good, Hermione. You good?"</p>
<p>She nodded, teeth scraping her lip. "Don't stop. Please, <em>please</em>, Draco."</p>
<p>He drew out of her, pushed in, drew out, his hands locked on her, his thumbs brushing her stomach with each stroke inside her. Hermione clung to him, head back, breath in rapid short pants. Draco pressed forward again, deeper, until his hips were full against her spread thighs. </p>
<p>Hermione whimpered. Draco watched her face, the way her lashes fluttered, the way her lips pressed together and parted on a gasp. She had him, all of him, inside her and he thought he might burst into flames. He closed his eyes tight. "Fuck," he muttered, arms quivering and voice shaking. "<em>Fuck</em>, Hermione, you feel–"</p>
<p>Hermione moaned. She gripped his head and pulled him up for a kiss. "Don't. Stop."</p>
<p>Draco set himself with his arms under her thighs, hands flat against the wall behind her, and started a rhythm, slow and long, filling her with each thrust. How she was managing to take all of him, he couldn't think.</p>
<p>He couldn't think at all. All he could do was sense: the feel of her, the scent of her. The heat inside her, the quiet sounds she made. </p>
<p>Hermione's legs fell open, leaving her held up solely by his arms and his cock. He felt her squeeze around him, saw her breasts shake as her breathing quickened. Catching her mouth in a deep kiss, he whispered to her. "For me, Hermione. Come for me."</p>
<p>Hermione shattered around him. She dragged her fingers over his back, clawed at him, clung to his shoulders and held on as she groaned his name. Draco fucked her through it, moving within her until she grabbed his hair, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.</p>
<p>She rested her forehead against his as he went still inside her, feeling his cock twitch in time with her aftershocks. "Your turn?" she mumbled.</p>
<p>Draco shook his head. "Not yet. Not standing. I, er." He laughed quietly. "I tend to collapse at the end, and I don't want to drop you." He smoothed one hand across her lower back, her skin hot and damp under his palm. "I'm taking you to bed."</p>
<hr/>
<p>Hermione leaned against the foot of the bed, her legs shaking, and watched Draco strip. His scars, his tattoos, his pale skin and deep grey eyes. She never wanted to look away from him. The way he'd watched her face when he first pushed into her had been heart-wrenching, as if even with all the evidence, even with her legs wrapped around him and her pleading for him to claim her, he couldn't believe that she was there. That she wanted him. That she was willing to give him everything.</p>
<p>She twisted her hands together, the satin of her gloves catching the glow of the candles Draco had lit with a snap of his fingers. She paused, looking at her hands, then up to meet Draco's eyes as he approached her. He took her by the waist, lifting her up to sit on the bed, and leaned closer.</p>
<p>
  <i>Everything. Give him everything.</i>
</p>
<p>Almost everything. There were words she wanted to say, one thing she wanted to tell him, but the thought terrified her. She couldn't bare her heart to him, but there was something else he could have, for him alone.</p>
<p>"Wait," she said.</p>
<p>Draco froze instantly, his eyes hooding. "What's wrong?"</p>
<p>Without answering, Hermione put her hands on his shoulders and drew them down his arms. She was careful to avoid the Dark Mark in his left forearm, but she circled his wrist and turned his hand up to bring it to the light. She brushed the tendons in his wrist, watching his muscles shift as she touched him.</p>
<p>Lifting her right hand to his mouth, she outlined his lips, then hers. Eyes locked on his face, she bit the tip of one finger and loosened the glove around her hand. </p>
<p>Draco's eyes widened. He watched her silently as she pulled the long glove off and dropped it to the floor. "Hermione," he said when she hooked her fingers in the top of the left glove. "I know what you're hiding. And I expect I know why. You don't have to do this."</p>
<p>She kept her eyes on his, stripping the glove off in a quick jerk and tossing it over the far side of the bed. </p>
<p>Draco took her hand, thumb stroking her knuckles, and gently turned her palm up. Hermione held her breath as he drew his finger under the word scarred into her forearm. He traced each letter, head lowered, then pulled her hand up to his mouth. With a touch as soft as a breath, he covered the word with kisses. "Thank you," he said, his deep voice taut with something she couldn't name. His words shook as he continued. "For your–for this trust."</p>
<p>Her breath caught. Hermione shifted up onto her knees and put both arms around his shoulders. "Draco," she murmured, kissing him. She shut her eyes, focusing on the taste of smoke and champagne on his mouth, the weight of his breaths against her lips, and the thrumming of her pulse. Moving back, she stretched along the bed, hair spread around her, one hand out to him.</p>
<p>Draco crawled up the length of the bed and over her. He kissed her knees, her thighs, her hips. He dragged kisses up her stomach, breathed kisses from the bottom point of her curse scar all the way up to the top of the ragged purple line. "You're beautiful," he said, nudging her head up to kiss his way along the diamonds around her neck, four more kisses placed around the center sapphire. "If I ever get lost in my memories for good, let it be this one."</p>
<p>She felt his hand moving as he stroked himself, then felt him guide her legs wider. Balanced on one hand, he reached down, rubbing his cock against her. "One more time," he said, settling between her thighs, his weight barely held off her. "Say it, Hermione."</p>
<p>"I want you," she said, meeting his eyes. She reached up to cradle his cheek. "<em>You</em>. Inside me, Draco. Please."</p>
<p>Draco tipped his head to kiss her palm as he fitted his cock to her. He pushed in carefully, his face tight. Hermione thought he was deliberately holding back, afraid to hurt her. "Draco," she said. "Go ahead."</p>
<p>He met her eyes with a silent question in his expression and gave her that devastating broad and dimpled smile when she nodded. He balanced his weight, closed his eyes, and growled as he thrust to the hilt. </p>
<p>Hermione shrieked, writhing underneath him, pinned to the bed by his weight over her. It hurt, in a way that was sheer pleasure, the stretch of her body accommodating his size. Her hips ached and she instinctively lifted her knees to make room for him.</p>
<p>Draco didn't wait, taking a hard rhythm, pounding into her. The room filled with the wet, slick sounds of his cock moving in her, with her need-filled whimpers and his heavy breathing. She closed her eyes and settled her hands on his waist, feeling the muscles in his back flex as he laid claim to her body.</p>
<p>One hand braced over their heads, Draco fucked her deeper, rocking the headboard into the wall with every thrust. Hermione clung to him, her heels wrapped around his thighs. She keened against his shoulder, a sharp sound driven out of her each time he slammed into her.</p>
<p>He braced his knees, pushed onto his hands to shift angles, and Hermione screamed as his cock slid over her G-spot, the ridge dragging across it on each thrust. She tipped her head back, throat distended as she struggled to breathe, and when he slid across it again and again and <em>again</em>, she shuddered and came apart beneath him. Her nails dragged down his sides, her heels grinding into his tensed thighs as she screamed for him.</p>
<p>The strength of her release left her panting and loose-limbed, eyes half-shut. Watching him, she brought one shaky hand up to cup his cheek, his hair darkened from sweat, his eyes almost black with dilation. "Draco," she pleaded, lifting her hips to meet his thrusts. "I want to feel it. I want to feel all of it. Inside me. Come inside me, <em>please</em>."</p>
<p>She touched his mouth, watching his face shift, his expression completely open to her. Hermione reached around his shoulder, set her hand on his neck, and dragged her hand down to rake her fingers along his spine, imagining she could feel the tattooed dragon on his back breathing its smoke. "Come for me, Draco."</p>
<p>Draco trembled, a rough moan tearing out of him. He slammed into her, hips sharp against her thighs, his rhythm stuttering and breaking apart. He stared into her eyes and groaned, a shattered sound rumbling through his entire body and deep into her blood. </p>
<p>Hermione felt him flooding into her, his cock throbbing with each heated spurt. She held tight to him with her legs, kept him buried inside her cunt until his last groan and final, weak thrust. He collapsed, his weight crushing her into the bed. She tucked her head into the hollow between his head and his shoulder, and listened to him fight to breathe. </p>
<p>She wanted to stay there forever, the heat of his body keeping her warm, but he was so large, covering her so completely, that it was hard for her to find air. "Draco." She pushed at his shoulder. "Off."</p>
<p>He made a disgruntled noise but pushed his upper body off her to fall heavily at her side. He draped his arm over her, legs tangled together. She tipped her head toward him, his sweat-damp shoulder against her cheek, feeling his cock soften in her.</p>
<p>Hermione listened to his heartbeat, the gradual slowing of his pulse, until he grunted deep in his throat and pulled free of her, rolling onto his back. She turned on her side facing him. Without opening his eyes, Draco tugged her close, folding her into his arms. His face was calm and relaxed, more at ease than she'd ever seen him. She stroked his cheek and down his throat to rest her hand over his heart. </p>
<p>Draco ran his fingers through her hair, burrowing under her curls to cup his hand around the back of her neck. Hermione closed her eyes, her heart missing a beat. In Draco's arms, she felt secure.</p>
<p>More than that, she thought. The way he looked at her, the way he touched her. It made her feel cherished. It made her think of the things she knew she shouldn't dare, of hearing him call her 'my love' and <em>meaning</em> it, of seeing starlight reflect in his eyes as they danced, of watching him take their child into his arms for the first time.</p>
<p>Maybe someday, she thought as she curled closer to him, running her fingers along the pale line of the Sectumsempra scar, she might be able to tell him that she loved him.</p>
<p>He muttered her name, his voice lilting in a question. She reached up, her hand going to the back of his neck automatically. </p>
<p>Draco's grip tightened around her. He shifted, turning more onto his side and tucking her under his chin, both arms around her and one leg between hers. She felt his lips moving in her hair as he spoke, but the only thing she heard clearly was "–you". </p>
<p>"I'm here," she told him, lowering her voice as she nestled down to recover her strength. "Rest, Draco. I'll always be here."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco opened his eyes, blinking in strange light. The angle of the sun coming through the window was wrong for his bedroom and the feel of the pillowcase under his head was odd.</p>
<p>The weight of another person in the bed was unfamiliar as well.</p>
<p>He glanced at the mass of dark hair spread over the pillow beside him, smiling as Hermione murmured in her sleep. She sighed, smacked her lips, and gave a tiny noise that Draco knew he would never, ever describe to her as a snort. He curled his arm around her and rubbed her nape, closing his eyes to listen to her breathing.</p>
<p>Draco stretched carefully, grimacing as his muscles protested. His shoulders throbbed, his thighs ached, his abs burned. He wasn't even certain he had enough strength to roll over. It had been years since he'd used his body to the extent he had the night before. Quidditch workouts and training exercises were no comparison. </p>
<p>For one thing, there was far less biting and scratching in those.</p>
<p>Draco glanced down at his chest, noting reddened splotches scattered across his skin. Hermione had clawed at him, nipped at him. Dug her nails into his back, sank her teeth into his shoulder. She'd been fierce in her demands on him.</p>
<p>Not that he hadn't returned the ferocity, he thought. He'd burned off the tension of years of fantasizing and weeks of teasing in one night of intense, passionate sex, taken her over and over, starting again each time he recovered, until he'd been <em>drained</em>. And she'd still begged him for more.</p>
<p>That had been glorious, but the most amazing part was this. Waking up beside her. </p>
<p>He'd woken up with her. That was something he'd never actually believed he could have. He'd dreamed of it, fantasized about it, wished for it more times than he could count over the previous three years, but he'd never <em>believed</em> that it would happen. Now, he had her beside him. </p>
<p>It was, without doubt, the happiest he had ever been.</p>
<p>Her arm was on his chest and Draco curled his hand around hers. At one point in the night, he'd taken his jewels off her, piling them carelessly on the table beside the bed. The greyhound ring had stayed on her hand and he brushed it with the pad of his thumb, imagining another ring on her finger. When he'd gone to the vaults to select the necklace for her to wear, he'd spent several minutes staring into a different jewelry case, ring after ring standing tall in the purple velvet tray. Plain gold bands, emerald solitaires, bezel-set sapphires, clustered rubies. Centuries of Malfoys betrothals and marriages. </p>
<p>Fantasy, he'd reminded himself, and more than he should let himself dream. </p>
<p>But with her lying there in his arms, it was hard not to surrender to that fantasy. One of his dreams had come true. Deep inside him, he thought, maybe. Maybe more than one dream could become real.</p>
<p>Hermione made another soft noise, moving beside him and distracting him from his thoughts. With a grumble, she lifted her head. She gave him a bleary, unfocused stare.</p>
<p>"Morning," Draco said.</p>
<p>Hermione blinked. She rubbed her eyes, looked at him again, and bit her lip as she smiled. "Hi," she whispered. "So, um. That wasn't a really intense dream."</p>
<p>"No," he said. He pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear, stroking down her cheek as he drew his hand back. "I wouldn't want it to be. I rather like the reality of waking up like this. With you."</p>
<p>Hermione's smile widened. She smoothed her hand across his stomach, following his largest scar up his chest. "This is a very nice way to wake up, I'll agree. Excellent way to start a morning."</p>
<p>Draco grinned. "Might want to check the time before you say that. We could be looking at an excellent way to <em>end</em> a morning."</p>
<p>She gave him a confused look and Draco wriggled one arm from beneath the blanket to snap his fingers. "Accio pocketwatch." It flew into his hand from the outer room of the suite, chain and small silver peacock fob dangling between his fingers, and he flicked it open with his thumb. "Half eleven," Draco said, tossing the watch onto the bedside table next to his wand.</p>
<p>Hermione sucked in air. She shot up, froze, and immediately dropped back to the bed. "Ow. Ow, ow, ow."</p>
<p>Draco pushed onto one elbow, ignoring the ache in his shoulder when he put pressure on the joint. "All right?"</p>
<p>"No," she said into the pillow. "I ... hurt." She pushed her hair out of her eyes and gave him a shy look. "In places."</p>
<p>Draco laughed quietly. The blush on her cheeks would have given away her meaning even if he hadn't expected it. "Ah. Delicate places, I'm guessing."</p>
<p>"You guess correctly. But not to worry, I knew what I was getting into." She giggled, ducking her head. "Or what was getting into me, maybe." </p>
<p>Draco snorted. "You can't say I didn't warn you in advance."</p>
<p>"No, I can't." With a small grunt each time she moved an inch, she rolled over. Draco held the blankets up to keep them out of her way, settling them over her once she'd scooted back to press against him. "I was told," she continued. "And I saw for myself. Don't worry, Draco. This isn't bad pain. This is very, very good pain. I enjoyed every second of it."</p>
<p>He brushed her hair up and across the pillow, baring her neck and shoulders to place a soft kiss on her nape. "So did I," he murmured into her skin. "Last night was amazing, Hermione. Why did we take three years to do that?"</p>
<p>"Technically, we didn't. We took three years to figure out we both wanted to do that. Once we had that settled, we didn't wait long."</p>
<p>"Fair enough." Draco kissed her shoulder. "The plan was complete exhaustion, yes? I don't know about you, but I couldn't have gone one more round, so I vote for 'complete' being achieved."</p>
<p>She hummed tunelessly, slipping one foot between his legs to rub her toes on his calf. "That's a shame. I was hoping for a little morning sex. You did tell me that's one of your favorite ways to wake up."</p>
<p>For a moment, his mind went fuzzy and blank. She was right about that, and if he hadn't worn himself out the night before, he would have already been working his way down her body. She was soft and warm and it was possible there was a square inch of her that he hadn't yet kissed. He tightened his arm around her, fingers digging into the thick material of the duvet. "Thought you said you hurt in delicate places."</p>
<p>"I do." She danced her fingers along his arm, petting his tattoos to make them move. "But I'm willing to overlook that."</p>
<p>"You have no idea how much I want to say yes," Draco muttered. He sighed and kissed behind her ear. "But I'm exhausted." </p>
<p>Hermione made a disgruntled huff and he laughed despite himself. "I would if I could, Hermione.  It's been a long time since I did that." Three years, his brain reminded him. Three years since he'd even been on a date, much less taken a woman to bed. </p>
<p>Three years of wishing and wanting and dreaming. Of shower wanks and wet dreams and long, elaborate fantasies about the woman in his arms right that moment. His cock stirred.</p>
<p>"Hmmm," Hermione said, glancing over her shoulder to smile at him. She took his hand to trail her fingers along his knuckles, then tugged the duvet down to set his palm on her breast. "Are you sure?" she asked, rocking her hips back against him. "Are you absolutely sure you're exhausted?"</p>
<p>He stifled a grunt in the back of her shoulder. "Maybe not." He pushed up onto his elbow and nudged his knee between her thighs. She draped her leg over his, opening up, and he dragged his hand down her stomach to slip his fingers against her cunt.</p>
<p>One gentle brush to her clit and she flinched, hissing and closing her legs around his hand to stop him. Draco gave a soft chuckle. He'd expected that. "I may or may not be exhausted, but you are most <em>definitely</em> sore. Let yourself recover for a while. We'll have breakfast, take a warm bath, have the staff send up a muscle relaxing potion. Could get a massage. There's a couple of people in-house."</p>
<p>She twisted onto her back to look up at him. "I don't want to miss any chance I have–"</p>
<p>He bent over her and kissed her, the lightest touch of lips to lips. "Hermione," he murmured. "We are going to have a lot of chances from here out. So many chances that we'll eventually get bored of it all."</p>
<p>He looked at her deep brown eyes, at the little gold flecks in them. He traced the shape of her face, letting his fingers trail from her hairline down her temple, over the arch of her cheekbone and along the curve of her jaw. "I'm not going to let go of you now." He set his forehead against hers and lowered his voice to a whisper. "I don't give my–my loyalties lightly. You keep telling me that I'm on your list. Well, you're on mine. And it is a very, very short list."</p>
<p>He caught her hand and drew it up to kiss her knuckle above the greyhound ring he'd given her. "Mine, Hermione. I'll protect you as long as you let me. As long as you want me."</p>
<p>Hermione watched his face as he spoke, her eyes softening with every word. When he stopped, he felt his heart pounding. Her expression went beyond 'want', he thought. He hoped. She was looking at him so intently that he had to close his eyes, afraid of his own imagination. </p>
<p>"Draco." Hermione waited until he opened his eyes. She slipped her hand around the back of his neck and kissed him. "If you really mean it, I should warn you. That's going to be a very long time. List of one. Just you. As long as you want me."</p>
<p>Slowly, she pushed him over onto his back and shoved the sheet and duvet down to his feet. Biting her lip, she moved to straddle him. He reached for her when she winced as her thighs spread wide but Hermione shook her head.</p>
<p>Kneeling astride his waist, she leaned down and cradled his head. Lips touching his, she whispered to him. "I want you again."</p>
<p>Draco slid his hands up her thighs, over her hips, and up her back, holding her as she kissed him. Her hair fell around them, surrounding him with the scent of jasmine. She kissed the corner of his mouth, the point of his chin, the underside of his jaw. She pressed kisses to the runic tattoo on his neck and along the line of his clavicle, inching backwards with each kiss.</p>
<p>Draco relaxed his hands on her knees. Hermione reached down between them to take a loose grip on his cock. He watched her as she stroked him, her head bowed in concentration. Her free hand slid between her thighs and she hissed under her breath as her brows knotted.</p>
<p>"Hermione," he said, pushing up onto his elbows. He knew she had to be sore and stretched and he didn't want her hurting, as much as he wanted to have her again. "You don't–"</p>
<p>"Shhh," she murmured. "Let me." She pushed his cock down and lowered herself to rub against him, rocking her hips to slide along his length. Setting her hands on his chest, she smiled at him. "Let me take care of you."</p>
<p>Draco let his head fall back. He closed his eyes, fighting with a groan as he felt himself getting harder. Hermione's hands trailed down his chest and over his stomach, then she gently guided him into her. Her thighs tensed under his hands as she rose up, sank down, and found a slow rhythm.</p>
<p>He stuffed two of the pillows under his head, elevating his shoulders, and watched her face shine as she rode him. "That's my girl," he murmured, stroking the inside of her thigh. "You're perfect, Hermione."</p>
<hr/>
<p>She'd brought a change of clothes for the day following the Rose Ball, but hadn't thought it through. She'd brought jeans. </p>
<p>Stiff, thick, jeans. With seams. </p>
<p>One look at them and she'd shuddered with horror.</p>
<p>Draco had laughed and given her one of his shirts to wear as a dress, his bow tie transfigured into a sash to serve as a belt. She could have transfigured her jeans into a skirt, or worn her clothes from the previous day, but as soon as he'd taken the shirt from the armoire and offered it to her, she'd accepted. Wearing his shirt made something sparkle deep in her heart. </p>
<p>She'd pulled the collar up around her jaw, taking a deep breath to catch his scent, then laughed at herself when Draco smiled. If there was any scent on his clothing at all, she wouldn't have the nose to catch it, she'd reminded herself. Then he'd run both hands through his hair, walked over to her, and rubbed his fingers on the points of the shirt collar. He left behind the faintest hint of a clean, almost rainy scent, one of the shampoos in the suite's extensive collection. </p>
<p>She'd given up on shoes entirely. Walking was difficult enough. Every step around Draco's suite was careful, tentative baby steps that put less strain on her hips and thighs.</p>
<p>Shortly before she left the suite, Draco took her again. She knelt over him in the wide leather chair, her arms around his neck as he held her hips and slid her up and down his cock. He locked eyes with her when he came and she carefully climbed off his lap, watching his face as she lifted the ends of his shirt and let him see his come drip out of her, spattering to the floor between his feet.</p>
<p>She kissed Draco goodbye, stepped into the Floo, and stepped out of the fireplace at home with a stumble that left her clinging to the mantle. It hadn't all left her, she realized, pressing her thighs together. She'd brought some of Draco home with her and it was sliding down her legs.</p>
<p>With a deep breath and a silent prayer that Harry and Pansy were out of the house, she took slow, careful steps out of the sitting room, her overnight bag dangling from one hand.</p>
<p>"Hermione?"</p>
<p>"Fuck," she muttered under her breath and leaned her head into the doorway of the kitchen from the hall. Harry was leaning against the sink, sipping from a ceramic mug labeled "World's Best Chosen One". Pansy was baking, trays full of cookies scattered around her, a stuffed piping bag in one hand as she shoved another tray into the oven.</p>
<p>"Hi, Harry," Hermione said with a little wave of her fingers. "Afternoon."</p>
<p>"It's nearly eight in the evening."</p>
<p>Hermione stared at him for a long moment. Behind him, Pansy snorted, never taking her eyes off the cookies she was decorating.</p>
<p>"Where have you been?" Harry said. He set his mug down and folded his arms. "Not that it's a mystery." </p>
<p>Hermione pressed her thighs together, feeling the skin stick. She was immensely grateful that neither Pansy nor Harry had anything close to Draco's sense of smell. She didn't have to guess that she absolutely stank of sex. She edged backward another step into the hallway. "Harry," she said. "Harry, I really don't have–"</p>
<p>"If you're going to stay out all night, that's one thing. You're a grown woman, I know you can take care of yourself. But you weren't home by morning, and I'd have called the Aurors if I wasn't one myself."</p>
<p>"Harry."</p>
<p>"I was worried about you, Hermione! I kept thinking, oh, she'll be home by ten, then she'll be home by noon, then it got later and later and–"</p>
<p>"Harry!"</p>
<p>Harry stopped, blinking owlishly at her.</p>
<p>"I will discuss this with you in a little while, if you want," she said, trying not to shift her thighs in fear the sound as they unstuck would be audible to everyone in the room. "But right now, I need to go ... take care of something."</p>
<p>"Take care of <em>what</em>?"</p>
<p>Hermione blushed. "I don't have time to talk about this, Harry, I need to–"</p>
<p>"Look, I figure you were with Malfoy all night and all day, unless you've decided to start wearing massive shirts as a fashion statement, but you could have given me–"</p>
<p>"Harry, I fucked Draco not twenty minutes ago and what he gave <em>me</em> is literally dripping down my legs right now so if you'll <em>excuse me</em>."</p>
<p>She lifted her chin and stalked toward the stairs, ignoring the wet trail she could feel reaching her knees.</p>
<p>"I'm going to bring Voldemort back to life so he can kill me!" Harry shouted after her, accompanied by delighted shrieks from Pansy.</p>
<p>Hermione fled into her room. She threw her wand and bag onto her bed and stripped out of Draco's shirt. She scrambled into the bathroom and slapped at the controls for the shower. She stood in it, cool water pounding on her shoulders, and slicked her hands with soap. Washing her thighs, she hissed softly. </p>
<p>Beneath the stickiness was another layer, dried and flaking, and beneath that was reddened skin and the blooming purple flowers of bruises. They matched on either side from the slam of his hips. She couldn't see the backs of her thighs or her buttocks, but she suspected they were equally as marked.</p>
<p>His fingerprints were on her hips. His handprints spanned her waist. He'd left marks on her from knee to neck, biting and sucking at her flesh. Her body was a trail of evidence, outside and in. <i>Draco Malfoy was here.</i></p>
<p>Hermione rinsed her hand of soap and slid it between her thighs to gently probe inside herself, whimpering as her overtaxed muscles protested yet another intrusion, even one intended to be a gentle cleaning. She avoided her clit, afraid even the slightest brush to it would make her scream. Draco had been especially attentive there. His tongue alone had given her three different orgasms over the course of the night.</p>
<p>She finished her shower quickly, washing her hair and face last. When she got out of the shower, she avoided looking at her collection of bruises in the mirror. She knew it would distract her for too long, remembering Draco's teeth in her shoulder, his fingers pinching at her breasts, his mouth exploring every inch of her body.</p>
<p>The dark, craving look in his eyes when he clung to her and broke apart with her name on his lips.</p>
<p>She shook herself, hit her hair with a braiding charm, and got into her oldest, softest, <em>loosest</em> shorts and sweatshirt. Padding down the stairs, she lifted her chin and strode into the kitchen, shouldering past Harry to the kettle.</p>
<p>She made herself a cup of tea and spoke without looking at him. "This is your fault," she said as she measured honey into a spoon.</p>
<p>"My–<em>my</em> fault?!"</p>
<p>"If you hadn't married Pansy, he never would have set foot in this house, and none of this would have happened. It's entirely your fault. One hundred percent."</p>
<p>"I'm suffering here. Standing in my own kitchen, minding my own business, and my best friend walks in with lovebites up and down her neck, as shaky as a new-born kitten." Harry ruffled his fringe. "And I had to see that with my own eyes. With my <em>mother's</em> eyes!"</p>
<p>Hermione blew on her tea to cool it off. She leaned against the counter and straightened up instantly with a stifled yelp, the rounded edge having pressed on a bruise. From Pansy's muffled laughter and jittering hands as she decorated her cookies, she knew exactly why Hermione had made that sound.</p>
<p>From Harry's agonized groan, so did he.</p>
<p>Hermione stole a hippogriff cookie from the plate and munched the wings off. "I am a gro–" she said thickly. "God, Pansy, these are good. A grown woman. I can make my own decisions about who I have sex with, where I do it, and how long it takes."</p>
<p>Pansy snickered, piping fins onto a mermaid's tail. "Man that tall, takes a while. Nearly twenty-four hours, apparently."</p>
<p>"We did sleep some of that time," Hermione said.</p>
<p>"Parkinson, I'm divorcing you," Harry muttered. "My best friend–"</p>
<p>"Don't be hypocritical," Pansy said. She pointed at Hermione with the piping bag, then at herself. "Your best friend. His best friend. And we took the opportunity of her being out of the house all day to have sex on the table, so we're not on the high ground here."</p>
<p>Hermione choked on her tea. "I eat breakfast at that table!" she snapped.</p>
<p>"Oh, a little scouring charm and it was fine," Pansy said. "My arse won't be. There was a splinter."</p>
<p>"Paperwork!" Harry blurted. "So much–I'll just–yeah." He fled the kitchen, bumping into the doorframe on his way out.</p>
<p>Pansy watched him go with an affectionate smile. "He's an idiot, but I love him. Even if he gives me splinters. Sad, really, but what can you do?"</p>
<p>"Serves you right. Sex in the kitchen, honestly."</p>
<p>Pansy stuck out her tongue. "People who just staggered home from a kink club where they got <em>thoroughly</em> fucked by pointy-faced tall blond Aurors have no room to talk."</p>
<p>Hermione stared at the remainder of the hippogriff cookie she held, then stuffed it in her mouth. "Fair enough," she mumbled. "Truce."</p>
<p>Pansy offered her a freshly-decorated harpy. "Want to talk about it?"</p>
<p>Hermione shook her head. "Going to sleep for five or six years first." She grabbed a few cookies, plopped them onto a plate, and refilled her tea before shuffling out of the kitchen.</p>
<p>"Pleasant dreams," Pansy called after her. "And if they're really pleasant, Silencing charms!"</p>
<hr/>
<p>She'd thought about going directly to sleep, but the ache in the lower half of her body sent her into the bathroom instead. She started filling the tub with hot, steaming water, and poured in most of a bottle of a jasmine-scented elixir. Pale purple bubbles mounded up on the water. Hermione undressed, twisted her hair up into a bun and stuffed her wand through it, and sank into the tub, wincing at the temperature. She whimpered, then sighed with relief as the heat soaked into her muscles.</p>
<p>She put the plate of cookies within reach and tipped her head back against the rim of the tub. When she closed her eyes, she mentally went back to the club. Her body was doing a fine job of remembering the physical aspects of the time she'd spent with Draco but now that she was alone, her mind was letting her focus on all the things she'd barely noticed in her haze of arousal. </p>
<p>Most of it was the way Draco had looked at her. Pride and lust, yes, but there was more. </p>
<p>She thought about the way he'd looked when he'd said he didn't give his loyalties lightly, the way his face had shifted. She didn't think he realized how open his expression had been then, or she would have seen his pupils contracting as he deliberately shut himself off. He hadn't. He'd looked into her eyes and she'd seen–</p>
<p>Yearning, she decided. That was the best way to describe it. Yearning, and a touch of fear. He'd looked as though he was frightened to say anything at all, but found it impossible to stop. </p>
<p>She supposed she didn't blame him for that fear. Draco was literally more willing to strip naked in public than he was to let anyone see him vulnerable emotionally. </p>
<p>But since they'd started this case, he'd let <em>her</em> see some of that vulnerability. </p>
<p>When she'd been worried about him, he'd given her the greyhound ring. When he'd been hurt, he'd wanted to come to her. But there was more than that. </p>
<p>There were his smiles, those broad and open smiles that turned his eyes to silver, the smiles that had openly shocked Pansy. Seven in their entire lives, she had said. And yet he'd given Hermione five of them in a couple of months. </p>
<p>There was the way he held her. Even before they'd realized they had a shared attraction, when they'd only been pretending for the sake of their cover story, Draco had held her as if she was precious to him, as if anyone who meant ill toward her would have to go through him first.</p>
<p>That, plus so much more. How his breath hitched when she kissed him, how his voice softened when he said her name. How he curled his fingers around hers and bent his head to let her reach his nape when a memory struck him hard. How he nuzzled into her hair and took deep breaths, letting her scent ground him.</p>
<p>She didn't know what everyone else saw when they looked at Draco, but she knew it was what he wanted them to see. She saw beyond that. He let <em>her</em> past some of his walls and she saw a man who smiled with deep dimples, who kissed her breath away, who trembled when he touched her.</p>
<p>And it frightened him. Hermione swirled her hands through the bath bubbles and closed her eyes. She remembered the look of genuine surprise in his face when she'd shouted at him for getting injured during the Quidditch match. It was as if he couldn't believe anyone would care about him. Sometimes she still saw that in his eyes, in the few seconds before he put up his walls again. </p>
<p>She let out a shaky breath. Not that he was the only one who was afraid, she thought, the only one who was walling things away. She kept telling him that she cared about him, and she kept holding back from telling him the truth. She loved him. </p>
<p>But she was terrified to tell him.</p>
<p>As much as it made her heart race to be with him, it made her heart <em>stop</em> to think of telling him how she felt. Logic and reason was no help to her. She kept imagining him pulling back, kept imagining his face going cold and still. How would a man who closed off and blocked out his own emotions react to having one – the deepest, most agonizing one – thrown at him?</p>
<p>Hermione shuddered, her feet slipping against the bottom of the bathtub and splashing bubbles over the side. No. She couldn't tell him. Not yet. They'd barely started a relationship, a real one. There was time. </p>
<p>Time to see how well they actually went together, how well they could move from friends to a couple.</p>
<p>And, she thought, time to see how well they worked in those aspects of a couple that didn't involve the physical, because as they had proven over and over and <em>over</em> the previous night, they had no problems whatsoever with that side of their relationship. </p>
<p>She pushed a few bubbles aside to look down at herself and at the marks Draco had left on her. Wriggling her hips, she bit back a whimper at a sting of pain. She reheated the water with a tap of her wand, added more bubble foam, and settled back to finish her cookies and soak out her aches.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Draco had never been more grateful for magic than he was when he got back to the Manor, his suitcase and garment bag floating behind him. He was fairly certain that the effort required to lift, carry, or even hold anything more heavy than a quill was beyond him. His shoulders were definitely angry with him and his core muscles had decided to go on strike.</p>
<p>He got a quick report from Marie that nothing had gone wrong while he was away. A tension in his nerves eased. He'd been worried that spending the night away from the Manor might send Narcissa into one of her drifts, and had taken some time to think about whether the night with Hermione was worth the risk.</p>
<p>It had been, he thought, letting his bags settle on the foot of his bed. He staggered into the bathroom, stripped out of his shirt, and took a long look at the multitude of bite and scratch marks on his throat and chest. The point of his shoulder bore a complete circle where Hermione's teeth had dug in. He grinned at himself in the mirror. "Absolutely worth it," he told himself.</p>
<p>He showered, washing off the scents of sex and the products the club kept in their bathrooms. They tried, for his sake, but still scented everything. He relaxed as he used his own shampoo and soap, erasing the smells for something he liked. A skim of the bottle's ingredients made him smile. Of course, he thought. He'd tried this one several months ago and liked it enough to keep using it, though he hadn't really understood his own reasoning. Now he did. The top note in the list was jasmine.</p>
<p>He dressed in loose clothes, and slipped barefoot out of his rooms to find his mother. He tracked her down in the library, curled into an old and well-worn sofa, a thick quilt over her legs. "I'm home, Mum," he said, bending over the back of the sofa to kiss the top of her head.</p>
<p>She made an attempt at a smile as he circled around to take a seat in the equally-worn chair diagonal to her. "I didn't break anything," she said. </p>
<p>Draco looked at her hands, limp on the top of the quilt. "That's good," he said, his voice low. </p>
<p>"I could have. But I tried, my dragon. I tried very hard." She lifted her head and looked at him, her lip quivering. "How was your evening with Miss–"</p>
<p>Her voice caught and her fists tightened in the quilt. "Miss," she tried again. She squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth. "Miss Gr–no. No. <em>No</em>, Cissy."</p>
<p>"Mum, don't." Draco leaned forward and set his hands on hers, wrapping them firmly in his fingers. "Stop. Don't do this to yourself."</p>
<p>"I have been <em>trying</em>," she mumbled. "Her face. I can almost call her face to mind without–without my troubles. Her name is still–But I want to try. For you."</p>
<p>Her eyes were bright with tears when she looked at him, her face pale and drawn. She turned her hands in his grip, setting her palms to his, drew herself up, and took a deep breath. "How was your evening?" she asked again. </p>
<p>Draco raised a brow. "Fine," he said slowly. </p>
<p>"Only fine?" Narcissa squeezed his hands. "I want you to be happy, Draco. Fine is not happy. Was she beautiful? Were you compatible? Are you pleased?"</p>
<p>Draco stared at her for a moment, blinking. The questions were unexpected, almost shocking, from her. "She was beautiful," he said after a moment. Narcissa's eyes brightened and Draco let out a sharp laugh. "God, Mum, she was–I saw her and I couldn't breathe. She was so, so–the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I wanted to worship her."</p>
<p>Narcissa smiled. "And did you?"</p>
<p>Draco felt his cheeks heating. "I'm not going to–you're my mother."</p>
<p>"Darling, sex was invented a very long time ago. I'm aware of how it works." Narcissa released his hands and leaned back in the sofa, her expression turning impish. "And from gossip I've heard over the years, you're <em>very</em> well aware of how it works."</p>
<p>"Mother!"</p>
<p>"Was she satisfied?" Narcissa sailed on blithely. "If you fail to pleasure your woman, your relationship won't last long."</p>
<p>Draco slumped, head tipped over the back of the chair. He stared up at the ceiling, focusing on the elaborate medallion in the center that marked where a chandelier had been removed years before. None of the rooms in the Manor had hanging lights, not anymore. </p>
<p><i>Turn it, turn it. Hermione's gripping his shirt, crushing the pleated fabric in her fist, eyes dark and wide and pleading. Moving against him, entire body shuddering, dripping with need and begging him.</i> </p>
<p>
  <i>Against the wall, squeezing, pulsing around him, she's shuddering, head back, begging don't stop. Come for me. She's falling apart in his arms, his name ringing in his ears.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>She's underneath him, nails digging into his back, legs wrapped around his hips. Driving into her, bracing a hand against the headboard, listening to her moan with every thrust.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Riding him, hands pressed to his chest for balance, face dark red with effort. His eyes locking on her face, his hands locking on her hips, like that, she's saying, don't stop please don't stop.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>She's stretching across the bed, letting her head dangle off one side, gesturing him to stand close, and she's opening her mouth, lengthening her neck, lips stretched wide and throat moving as he pushes into her, as she pulls him in deeper, holding him completely in her mouth for the longest few seconds of his life.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>In his lap, arms around his neck, whispering to him as she lifts up, sinks down, telling him over and over again. I'm yours, Draco, I'll always be yours, fill me up, come in me, leave your claim inside me.</i>
</p>
<p>Draco scrubbed both hands over his face, pushing his memories deep into his mind. "Yes," he said in a strangled voice. "She was. She was very vocal about that."</p>
<p>"Good," Narcissa said. "One can make many compromises in a relationship, but compatibility in the bedroom should not be one of them. I can assume you were satisfied as well, though I know it's far simpler for the male half of the species."</p>
<p>Draco groaned, one hand over his eyes. "<em>Yes</em>, Mum. She was satisfied; I was satisfied. We're ridiculously compatible and it was the best sex I've ever had. We were at it for hours and only took breaks long enough to eat, shower, and sleep. If she wasn't on a contraceptive, she'd be pregnant right now. Is that what you wanted to hear?"</p>
<p>"Do not attempt to shock me into silence by being crass, Draco."</p>
<p>Rubbing his eyes, Draco sighed. "I don't know what you want from me. It was an amazing night. She was beautiful. I didn't want to leave and I can't wait to do it all again. Is that sufficient?"</p>
<p>"Not precisely. I need to know one more thing, my dragon."</p>
<p>Draco peeked through his fingers, almost terrified to ask. "What is it?" he said cautiously.</p>
<p>"Did you fuck her or did you make love to her? There <em>is</em> a difference."</p>
<p>Draco stayed still for a few moments, then slowly sat up. He laced his fingers together, rubbing his signet ring, and stared down at his hands. "I know there's a difference," he said. His voice softened to a whisper. "I don't–" </p>
<p>They'd done nearly everything in their hours together. What had started as needy and demanding had shifted through the night. They'd slowed down, taken their time with each other. He remembered one moment where he'd barely been moving inside her, his weight on his elbows and his hands under her shoulders, their lips together in soft kisses as her fingers trailed along his spine. </p>
<p>He'd been making love to Hermione. What he didn't know was if she was anywhere close to the same.</p>
<p>He shut his eyes and shook his head. "I don't know how to define it. She says she cares about me, she says she's mine and she'll be mine for as long as I want her, and she says I'll always be safe with her, but–" He dropped his head. "I love her. And I can never tell her. Anything more than what we have, it's–it's impossible."</p>
<p>"Why do you say that? It was impossible for the Dark Lord to be defeated, and yet he was. It was impossible for our family to survive the war, and yet we did."</p>
<p>Draco watched her as she smoothed the quilt over her legs, her fingers trembling against the stitching. "It can't happen, Mum. Anything between us, anything I might ... dream about. It won't happen."</p>
<p>"Because of me," she said quietly.</p>
<p>"No. No, that's not what I–"</p>
<p>"It's the truth, Draco. You're stopping yourself from having a future with this woman, because of me. Because of my troubles. You're giving up on the potential of happiness with a woman you love to cater to a woman with a broken mind."</p>
<p>"It's not your fault, Mum." Draco moved to sit on the coffee table, facing Narcissa. He knotted his hands together between his knees and twisted his signet ring around his finger. "Your mind, it's–you know what the Healers said. It's trauma. I can't blame you for your difficulties. All I can do is take care of you. I owe you that much."</p>
<p>He stared at the quilt, unable to look into her eyes. "If your mind is broken, it's because of me. What happened to you was because of <em>me</em>, Mum. If I hadn't–" His voice tightened. "If I hadn't been such a coward."</p>
<p>He wanted to speak further, to talk about what had happened all those years ago, but he knew better. They were treading dangerously close to sending her into one of her memory drifts as it was. One wrong word could push her into the past. "It can't be changed," he said instead. "I'll enjoy what I have with her. If I wish there could be more, that's on me. Not on you. I'll give her everything I can for as long as I can, but I know it's temporary."</p>
<p>Narcissa took his hand, tapping the greyhound ring he wore. "Would you have given this ring's twin to a woman you believed was temporary? Would you have waited several years for a woman you believed was <em>temporary</em>? You have had temporary women in your life before, Draco, and you have never been sorry when the relationship ended. You've never loved them. But this one? Miss Gr–Gr. Miss."  She panted, squeezing his hand tightly. "This one. She's different. You don't want her to be temporary."</p>
<p>She tapped the greyhound ring again. "You don't want this to be the only ring you ever give her."</p>
<p>Draco lowered his head. "No," he whispered.</p>
<p>"You want to marry her. To have children with her. To build a happy life with her."</p>
<p>He wanted that. His dreams were filled with it. </p>
<p>Holding his tiny newborn son cradled to his shoulder, small head fitting into the cup of his hand. Watching a pair of toddlers play in the garden, blond and brunette heads bent together in giggles, peacock feathers waving through the air as imaginary wands. Healing scraped knees from a tumble off a toy broom. Reading stories in the nursery before tucking both children into bed. </p>
<p>Bending down to give his wife a kiss before taking her hand and leading her to their room, her dark eyes gleaming with golden flecks in candlelight.</p>
<p>People thought he could have anything he wanted, thought he could buy anything he pleased. But there were some things gold couldn't touch. He couldn't have everything, and he knew it.</p>
<p>"What are you afraid of, Draco?" Narcissa asked, her voice tender as she spoke.</p>
<p>Draco shut his eyes without answering. Narcissa's hand was dry and cold in his, her fingers as light as bird bones. Her wedding ring spun loose around her finger and he gently pushed it into place, whispering the charm to resize the band.</p>
<p>"I just can't," he said at length. "I don't blame you, Mum, you know I don't. I never would. But this-- I can't have this. I can't have her. Not the way I want. Not ... forever. It's impossible."</p>
<p>Narcissa brushed his fringe away from his forehead. The sofa creaked as she moved, then her dry lips touched his temple. "If she cares for you even a tenth as much as you love her, nothing will be impossible between you. Your happiness is in your own control, my dragon. You have found a treasure in her. Don't let it slip out of your fingers."</p>
<hr/>
<p>"And then. <em>Then</em>," Hermione said, waving her empty glass in the air. "He's strolling to the window and he's wearing nothing but a goddamn <em>towel</em>, and he's leaning against the window frame and he's smoking, and it was the–the–" She slumped on the bench and put her head on the table. "It was the sexiest thing I've ever seen. Pansy, his chest should be <em>illegal</em>."</p>
<p>Pansy grinned into her mimosa. "Not something a couple of feet lower?"</p>
<p>"That should be a national treasure."</p>
<p>Pansy's grin widened. "Frankly, Granger, I'm more impressed by you. You spent the night with him Saturday, plus most of Sunday. It's only Monday brunch and you're already capable of walking? Talk about taking it like a woman."</p>
<p>"I spent most of last night in a hot bath," Hermione admitted. "And I put a cushioning charm on my seat when we got here. I'm sore. Incredibly sore. I may not have sex again for a year."</p>
<p>"Oh, please. If he walked in here right now, you'd drop your knickers before he got to the booth."</p>
<p>Hermione grabbed the pitcher from the middle of the table and refilled her glass. "I refuse to confirm or deny that statement."</p>
<p>"Which confirms it."</p>
<p>Hermione drained half her mimosa in one go. "Not the first time I've ridden a dragon," she muttered.</p>
<p>Pansy blinked at her. "You'll have to say that again." When Hermione hesitated, Pansy made a face, flapping one hand. "Not literally. I meant riding. Riding the dragon. As in, he was on his back? Not sitting up or in a chair or something like that."</p>
<p>"Your voice is doing a weird thing," Hermione said. </p>
<p>"Because my voice doesn't believe it." Pansy leaned back in the booth, watching Hermione's face. "What you're saying is that you do not comprehend for one moment the amount of trust he has in you. I couldn't say how many times I've slept with that man, but I can tell you that not once, not <em>one</em> time, was I ever on top."</p>
<p>"Is it that unusual?"</p>
<p>"For the average man? Couldn't say. For Draco? I'm not certain he'd be on his back in his casket. Granger, that–" She stopped, looked down, then reached across the table and took Hermione's hand to point to the greyhound ring. "That. Plus this. Plus those dimples. Plus the way he looks at you. Plus the fact that after that inquiry, he asked for <em>you</em>. Do you really not see what this all means?"</p>
<p>"That we're dating?" </p>
<p>Pansy gave her a long and steady look. Hermione fidgeted and looked away. She glanced at the menu on the wall. A floating cloth erased 'bean and bacon' from under the <i>soup of the day</i>, and a piece of chalk filled in 'lentil and leek'. Behind the counter, the barista yawned and pulled a traybake from the oven. </p>
<p>Hermione looked back to Pansy, who was still watching her. "We're dating," Hermione said again. "That's–that's all. I care about him and he knows it. That's what those things mean."</p>
<p>"Next time Potter goes to the optometrist, I think you'd better go with him. You need your eyes checked, Granger."</p>
<p>"Pansy, it's–" Hermione slumped in the booth and rubbed her temples. "It's all very confusing and new and I don't want to push anything. We're figuring things out. For god's sake, it took us three years to realize that we were both attracted to the other."</p>
<p>"You're telling me. I was about to crack Draco's head open so I could turn his skull into a cauldron. He certainly wasn't using it to carry his brains around. I told him over and over again that you wanted to bang him and he never believed me."</p>
<p>"You–you. You <em>told</em> him? How long ago?" Hermione heard her voice tightening and getting higher, felt her cheeks heating up. </p>
<p>"Ages," Pansy said airily. "Don't fuss. I'm serious that he never believed me. He's an amazing man in many ways, but his ability to notice that a woman is into him is worse than his ability to dance."</p>
<p>Even in her embarrassment, Hermione laughed. "He <em>can't</em> dance. At all. We danced at the ball and it wasn't a success. He didn't step on my feet, by some miracle. He did elbow the couple next to us, though. And we weren't even trying anything fancy."</p>
<p>"No, you saved that for later." Pansy cackled into a fresh glass of mimosa as Hermione's slight pink color turned to a full-out blush. "I'm so proud. I didn't expect that you'd actually go for the 'through a wall' idea, but it was worth it, wasn't it? How many positions did you end up using?"</p>
<p>Hermione didn't need a memory like Draco's to remember what they'd done. It was a night she'd never forget, no matter how long she lived. Standing. Missionary. On their sides, face to face. On their sides, from behind. Back to missionary. With his back against the headboard and her in his lap. Bent over the foot of the bed. On her stomach. Missionary again. In the chair right before she went home.</p>
<p>They'd tried everything, with missionary a clear favorite, but as Hermione thought about it, she realized there was one they hadn't tried. "We didn't do it doggy style," she blurted. "How did we miss that?"</p>
<p>Pansy opened her mouth, then shook her head. "No, that's not for me to say."</p>
<p>Hermione gave her a suspicious look. "What's not for you?"</p>
<p>Pansy ignored the look as well as the question. "How's his shoulder?" she asked brightly.</p>
<p>"His shoulder? Fine? I suppose. Why wouldn't it be?"</p>
<p>"Took a bludger to it back in school. Injury flares up from time to time, especially when he's putting a lot of pressure on it. And as I know what position he prefers, I can guarantee he stressed his shoulders." Pansy made a push-up motion and gave a little shimmy, waggling her brows.</p>
<p>"You realize this is an extremely weird conversation. Not the whole blow by blow–" Pansy snorted bubbles into her mimosa and Hermione blushed, but continued. "But that it's with you. His ex."</p>
<p>"You want me to tell you about Harry? Even the score a bit? He's got this little curve that–"</p>
<p>"I know."</p>
<p>Pansy stopped, stared at her, then slowly leaned forward. "Have you been holding out on me?" she said, grinning.</p>
<p>Hermione squeaked and covered her face. "No, no, <em>no</em>. I've never–we've never. But we were–the war and the whole camping for months thing and teenage boys aren't as sneaky as they think they are and he didn't always wait until I was completely asleep before he–" She smacked the table with both hands. "I've seen it, okay? More than I ever wanted to."</p>
<p>"Did he always make that sound? You know the one I mean. The one at the end."</p>
<p>Hermione made a face. "Yes. And thank you. It took me years to get that out of my head and now you've brought it right back."</p>
<p>"At least he's not doing it in the shower while you're waiting to pee."</p>
<p>"True." Hermione picked up the pitcher, blinking at how light it felt before she realized it was empty. "We, um. We finished this off, Pansy. We're out of mimosa."</p>
<p>"I know exactly what to do." Pansy flicked her wand and sent the pitcher bobbling to the counter. "Refill," she called to the sleepy barista. "And some lemon bars!"</p>
<p>She crossed her legs and locked her hands together around her knee. "This week, we should spend some time rearranging your room. Get some extension charms going. I think we can extend over the garden, do some actual renovations if we really have to, but we'll try charms first."</p>
<p>Hermione paused in the middle of spreading apricot jam over a piece of toast. "Do I want to know why?"</p>
<p>"You're going to need a much longer bed, Granger. You can't expect Draco to squish up all the time. And for that, you need a bigger room. Ergo, extension charms."</p>
<p>"You know those are illegal for private use."</p>
<p>"<em>You</em> know it's only illegal if you get caught."</p>
<p>"You're married to the Head Auror."</p>
<p>"I'd like to see him try to arrest me." Pansy smirked, her green eyes shining. "If we tell him that we're doing it so your bed is further away from our room, Harry would probably cast the charms himself."</p>
<p>Hermione paid close attention to her toast and jam, pretending she couldn't feel the blush flowing across her cheeks. "While we're at it.... Silencing charms. Permanent ones."</p>
<p>Pansy crowed with laughter. "Definitely."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He'd caught up on the reports filed over the weekend, had a half-dozen conversations about Tuesday feeling like Monday thanks to the wizard holiday the day before, and watched his trainees in a practice duel that left Cotterill with a bloody nose, Choudhury with a sprained finger, and both of them with huge smiles. He'd sent them home to recover for the afternoon and gone to the conference room to look over his evidence wall again.</p>
<p>Harry strolled in an hour later and sprawled into a seat. "Don't tell anyone I'm here," he said, letting his head droop over the back of the chair. "I'll go mental if I have to have one more hallway chat about what I did over the long weekend." He scrubbed his fringe with a growl. "How's the case going?</p>
<p>Draco sipped his coffee and rubbed his side where his wand holster was a bit too tight. "Cotterill and Choudhury have been excellent so far," he said, leaning back in his chair. "I'm putting them both in for special recognition. They work well together and with other members of the squad. They're both willing to put in the hours and they never complain about grunt work. Excellent additions to the corps, I think, and I expect they'll have no trouble with the exams."</p>
<p>Harry nodded. He tucked his hands behind his head and adjusted his feet on top of the table. "That's great, but that's not what I asked. I wanted to know how the case was going, not how the people working on the case were doing."</p>
<p>Draco puffed his cheeks on an exhale. "It's going," he said. "I may have a suspect."</p>
<p>"Oh, you <em>may</em> have a suspect. Well, that's very helpful, Auror Malfoy. Let me just call out your squad, get everyone in their riot gear. Armor-charmed robes and all."</p>
<p>"Don't give yourself a coronary," Draco said. He shuffled a few folders, then shoved one across the table. "I can't act on it yet. I only have suspicions. And we all saw what happens when government agents act on suspicion." </p>
<p>Harry flicked two fingers at him. "Sometimes those suspicions are right. I suspected you were a Death Eater back in sixth year."</p>
<p>"You didn't have any proof, though. Yes, you suspected, but it's not as if I was flinching every time someone mentioned the Dark Lord's name or giving up on Quidditch because I couldn't see how to avoid changing in the locker room and having someone see my arm."</p>
<p>"Definitely not. You didn't do any of that. My suspicions were completely unfounded. Silly of me to believe you were a Death Eater." Harry raised his brows. "But how about that. You were."</p>
<p>"Still didn't have any proof of it." Draco shrugged. "I'll admit I'm biased toward hard fact, as I would have been given a much longer sentence if I'd gone to Azkaban based on what I was <em>suspected</em> of doing. What they could prove was bad enough."</p>
<p>Harry grimaced in acknowledgement as he opened the folder. "All of your victims are Muggle-born?" he said, raising his brows. "You've verified this?"</p>
<p>"My trainees did." Draco got and went to the wall of evidence, gesturing to the photo of each victim as he spoke. "These four are all Muggle-born, verified through statements from family." He stopped in front of the middle photo. "And vic three. We finally identified her. Heather Slingsby, from Harrogate. She didn't turn up in any records because her family reported her missing to the Muggle authorities."</p>
<p>Harry examined the folder. "No wizarding connection?"</p>
<p>"She'd broken up with her boyfriend, who was on assignment for Gringott's. He hadn't been home in weeks. Didn't know she was gone. John Cragg, I looked into him. He's clear. But here's the thing."</p>
<p>Draco flicked his wand and sent a new set of photos, all male, to the wall to hover beside the pictures of the victims. He tapped each one in turn. "Half-blood. Pure-blood. Half-blood. Half-blood. Pure-blood."</p>
<p>"And all the women are Muggle-born." Harry blinked. "They're mixed relationships. All of them."</p>
<p>Draco nodded. He moved to the end of the wall nearest the door, pointing to the victim from the eighties. "Here's where it gets odd. Fern Burke, pure-blood. We tracked down information on her boyfriend, Connor Moore. Muggle-born. Died in a car crash three years later, drunk and speeding."</p>
<p>Harry folded his arms on the table, looking at the wall. "So they're an inverse of the current victims. Significance?"</p>
<p>"Interview statement says Burke was allegedly murdered by an ex-boyfriend the night Moore intended to propose. No record of it in Muggle papers. Daily Prophet had a couple of headlines on the murder but then there was a scandal in Quidditch circles and everyone lost interest in the killing."</p>
<p>"Who was the ex-boyfriend?"</p>
<p>Draco growled under his breath. "Unknown. The only information I have from my interview is 'An ex-boyfriend, apparently', name possibly started with a vowel, and the papers never published his name under the Dark Victims Regulation."</p>
<p>Harry blinked at him. "Remind me."</p>
<p>"During the first war, several people claimed that their actions had been the result of the Imperius placed on them by Dark wizards."</p>
<p>"Like your father."</p>
<p>Draco went still for a moment, then exhaled slowly. "Yes. Like my father." He turned away to stare at the evidence wall, loosening the knot of his tie with one finger. He closed his eyes for a moment, gathered his control, and cleared his throat. "But not everyone was as notorious as that. A public figure, as it were. And there was a lot of harassment of people who'd made that claim, regardless of the truth. Some were lying, some actually had been cursed. The Ministry passed a regulation that names of such individuals should be kept out of the papers, to lessen the chances that someone who actually <em>was</em> innocent would be damaged."</p>
<p>"So this bloke claimed he'd been put under the Imperius? Cursed into killing her? That's bollocks."</p>
<p>"Agreed." Draco reclaimed his chair and warmed his coffee with a tap of his wand. "Theory."</p>
<p>"Go on," Harry said, taking his glasses off to rub his eyes.</p>
<p>"He was either pure- or half-blood and couldn't hack the idea that she threw him over for a Muggle-born. He snapped, killed her, and claimed a Dark wizard made him do it. Since no one could prove it wasn't true, he got a slap on the wrist. Maybe a short stint in Azkaban, maybe not. Either way, he killed her and got away with it."</p>
<p>"All right. Let's go with that for now. He killed her and laid low for the next twenty years? What made him start killing again?"</p>
<p>"Second theory. Over the past several years, mixed couples have become more and more common. Pure-blood ideals are dropping off rapidly. Even the most stalwart defendants of keeping the line pure are loosening up." </p>
<p>
  <i>Letter opener slamming onto a desk. Pure-blood, half-blood. I would even accept a Muggle-born. I no longer care. I want to see you happy and settled and to hold a grandchild before I die.</i>
</p>
<p>He leaned back in his chair, staring at Harry. "Including my family."</p>
<p>Harry slipped his glasses back on and gave Draco a long, steady look. "Good," he said eventually. "That's good to know."</p>
<p>Draco inclined his head. "But others aren't. The rise in mixed relationships likely inflamed our killer. And since all of the murders have been within the past year, I have an idea as to what triggered him."</p>
<p>"Hit me."</p>
<p>"You got married."</p>
<p>Harry knotted his brows. "How do you—"</p>
<p>"You're a half-blood. Quite possibly the most famous one in England. And you married a pure-blood woman, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Pansy got hate letters when you started dating."</p>
<p>"She never said!"</p>
<p>"She wouldn't have. There weren't very many of them but they were nasty. There was one letter in particular that I recall. Unsigned, of course, but <em>very</em> vehement. Blamed her for not being proud enough to stick to pure-bloods, blamed you for subverting her. So on and so forth, the usual insanity. But your marriage was in every paper, talked about for weeks on both sides of the argument. If the rope killer has it out for mixed couples, that may have been what pushed him over the edge, started him killing again."</p>
<p>Harry tapped the end of a quill on the table. "And the murders started coming more frequently after you and Hermione went public."</p>
<p>Draco ran one finger around the rim of his coffee mug. "I know," he said quietly. "Pansy might have gone outside pure-blood circles, but at least you're half. And a very powerful wizard, to boot. I, on the other hand...." </p>
<p>
  <i>Father laughing with a group of men around a table. Can you believe it, fucking a Mudblood. No shame in having a wench on the side, but a man has to have standards. Handshakes and nods and bargains struck. He's ruined himself. We're just going to help him along. Send a condolence to his widow. Once she's widowed. Make sure that's within the week.</i>
</p>
<p>He shut his eyes to avoid Harry's gaze, dragging his hands beneath the table and rubbing his signet ring. "I've been a blood traitor for years. Now I'm a mud-fucker, too. That pisses off a lot of people in my former circles."</p>
<p>Harry stayed silent for a minute, and when Draco opened his eyes again, Harry was still watching him. "I don't like the word either," Draco said. "But it's—"</p>
<p>"Is Hermione in any danger because of your relationship?"</p>
<p>"Potter, I would never allow—"</p>
<p>"Let me rephrase." Harry's expression hardened. He flicked a glance at the evidence wall, then looked back to Draco. "Is there any possibility that this killer will come after the two of you in particular, as a pure-blood and Muggle-born couple? A notorious one? A couple who have been in the news rather frequently and will continue to be, flaunting their relationship in the faces of anyone who might hate them for it?"</p>
<p>Draco stared at Harry, his jaw tightening as he caught on to the pointedness of the questions. "You want us to be bait."</p>
<p>"I want this killer to make a mistake." Harry stood up slowly, both hands on the table. "The two of you have already been gathering a lot of attention. I want this killer to keep reading about you in the gossip columns and society pages, to keep hearing about your relationship. I want him unable to sleep at night because he sees you together every time he dreams."</p>
<p>Draco narrowed his eyes. Standing during an interrogation was a classic tactic, trained into Aurors from the beginning. Looming over a suspect made them nervous, more likely to give something away. He contemplated standing as well, to set Harry back on his heels with an additional four inches in the height game.</p>
<p>Instead, he leaned back in his chair and interlaced his fingers behind his head. He lifted a brow as he watched Harry steadily. "No," he said.</p>
<p>"Malfoy."</p>
<p>"Thought you'd be a bit more protective of her than this, Potter."</p>
<p>Harry exhaled sharply. "And if she was dating a different man, I might be. But you, Malfoy, you're—" He pushed away from the table. "You're one of the best Aurors in the corps. You saved my life once already and I never doubt that you'd do it again. There isn't one person in the world I'd trust with her life more than you." </p>
<p>He rubbed his forehead, finger tracing out the lines of the lightning scar. "Hermione's my best friend and I don't want to say this. But I'm not speaking as her friend right now. I'm speaking as the Head Auror. There is a Dark wizard out there murdering Muggle-born women. I want him stopped. And if this will do it, then I'll make that call."</p>
<p>"No," Draco said again. "Not without Hermione's knowledge. If <em>she</em> agrees, then I'll flaunt until even Skeeter gets tired of following us around. But I'm not going to leave her out of this plan."</p>
<p>Draco looked directly at Harry's eyes, his face as calm as he could force it. "If you want us to deliberately draw this killer out, I'll do it. And she'll know exactly what I'm doing. Because if that's not part of the deal, then I'd be violating her trust. I'd be putting her at risk. I won't do it, not when I could be protecting her instead. Not when I—"</p>
<p>A muscle in his cheek jumped despite his efforts. He blinked and raised his chin, inhaling deeply. Stale coffee, parchments and papers, wood polish from the table, a fruity scent of shampoo as Harry ruffled his fringe. Draco let the smells flow past him. "I'll protect her in this, and I'll do whatever's necessary to keep her safe. You of all people know the lengths I'll go to, to protect the people I—the people who are important to me."</p>
<p>Harry held his gaze for a few seconds, then cleared his throat and looked down at the table. "I do. I know just how far you'll go. Hopefully you won't need to attempt murder this time."</p>
<p>Draco touched the band of the greyhound ring on his index finger. "If Hermione's life is in danger, Potter? I guarantee there won't be an <em>attempt</em>."</p>
<hr/>
<p>"Malfoy, come into my office." </p>
<p>Draco made a face at the miniature stag prancing around his desk. He flicked the thing in one antler and it planted its feet, head lowered, nostrils flared. "Oh, go ahead," Draco muttered at it. "I've blown smoke rings tougher than you."</p>
<p>It pawed his desk, lifted its head, and snorted before dissipating. Draco closed the file he'd been reading, put it on top of the stack of folders, and stood to put on his suit jacket. The Patronus message had been blunt, and the temptation to dally, keep Harry waiting, was one he had to fight.</p>
<p>No matter how irritated he was with the man. Even a night's sleep hadn't improved his mood. Draco smoothed his tie and buttoned his jacket, putting his frustration aside. </p>
<p>He grabbed a couple of things from the cubicle and headed for Harry's office, looking at a file and walking in without bothering to knock. "Here, Potter," he said, setting a tiny potted cactus on Harry's desk. "Figure you'll want this in the future. You'll be needing to scrub out your brain—"</p>
<p>"Shut up, Malfoy." Harry put his head in his hands. "Mandamus, you had something for Malfoy?"</p>
<p>Draco's eyes widened. He slowly looked up from the file he was reading to see the head of MLE sitting in the chair at the side of Harry's desk. "Sir," Draco said, standing up straighter. "That was an inside joke. It—"</p>
<p>"Save it, Malfoy." Mandamus brushed biscuit crumbs off the front of his uniform. "Sit down. This is official business."</p>
<p>Draco eyed him for a moment, then took the other chair, file set on Harry's desk to free up his hands. "Is this to do with the rope killer investigation? I have good leads, sir."</p>
<p>"I'm sure you do. But no. This has to do with a different case." Mandamus leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers over his stomach. "We've completed our investigation into McGowan and Prier."</p>
<p>Draco stiffened, his fingers curling to dig his nails into his palm. The memory of pain rushed over him and he held his breath, eyes slamming shut. He threw walls into place in his mind, cinnamon-colored walls mortared with amber and draped in jasmine vines. One deep breath, another, and another, and he held Hermione's soft voice in the front of his thoughts. </p>
<p>
  <i>I'm here, she's whispering to him. Her fingers stroking through his hair, her palm warm on the back of his neck. Lips brushing his forehead, legs tangled in his. You're safe. I'm here.</i>
</p>
<p>Draco exhaled and folded his hands together, rubbing his fingers.</p>
<p>Mandamus waited until Draco opened his eyes, then spoke quietly. "We have the name of the man who wanted the information about the Mark and the ceremony. Colin Blackpool."</p>
<p>"What the <em>fuck</em>," Draco snapped.</p>
<p>"I gather there were a couple of incidents at a club of some kind? The specific type of club being something about which I have no knowledge and will stick my fingers in my ears if you attempt to tell me about it. His current paramour, a young woman from the maintenance department, has been very helpful with our inquiries. She gave us a tip. Talks in his sleep, apparently, and seems he's had it in for you for some time."</p>
<p>"Couple of years," Draco muttered. "Recently, he made advances on Hermione that I found distasteful. I was clear about my course of action should he try again."</p>
<p>"Details of which will also cause me to stick my fingers in my ears. Regardless, he wanted the information, and he was willing to pay buckets of Galleons for it. He knew someone who knew someone who knew that McGowan was offended with you on behalf of her wee ickle sweet baby of a great-grandson, who never hurt a fly in his life."</p>
<p>Draco snorted.</p>
<p>"They had a little conversation and set the thing in motion. McGowan gave a full testimony in return for no prosecution."</p>
<p>"What the fuck," Draco said again. "Sir. That's a shit call."</p>
<p>Mandamus held up one hand. "I understand that news isn't what you wanted to hear, but I considered it a fair trade."</p>
<p>Draco took a slow breath. He objected, but this was over his head. It wasn't as if complaining would change Mandamus' mind. "Understood, sir."</p>
<p>"Once we put Blackpool's name in front of her, she gave up everything on him, and we've granted her immunity for it. She won't be charged. She's resigning from the Ministry, and she and her great-grandson have decided to move to Spain for her health."</p>
<p>"You mean you had her fired and told her to leave the country or you'd send her to Azkaban."</p>
<p>"Some people might interpret it that way." Mandamus leaned back in his chair. "Unspeakable Prier, however, did not get the same deal."</p>
<p>Cinnamon, amber, jasmine. Draco didn't take his eyes off Mandamus, but his mind raced to build walls, to block out the memory of the pressure of Prier's hands, the rank stench of her breath.</p>
<p>The agonizing pain as she shredded through his thoughts.</p>
<p>
  <i>Jasmine, amber, dark curls and gold-flecked eyes. I'm here.</i>
</p>
<p>"Wh—" His mouth was too dry to get the word out completely, and Draco wet his lips, swallowing to open his throat and speak. "What deal did <em>she</em> get?"</p>
<p>Mandamus tapped his fingers together. "Nothing. She got absolutely nothing. She's being charged with aggravated assault on a law enforcement officer and abuse of position. The Unspeakables themselves are presenting a complaint for willful disregard of confidential procedure and illicit use of experimental magic. If you're willing to press your own charges against her, your testimony would mean we could add intentional infliction of grievous mental harm or use of magic for violation of the person."</p>
<p>"No," Draco said without hesitating. "I can't—Testifying would be public record. It would—I would have to—"</p>
<p>
  <i>It will hurt anyway, Death Eater. Iron shackles biting his wrists, leather collar bruising his throat. Spikes, chains, tearing through his mind. A memory disintegrating as he screams.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Hurt. Hurt. It hurts. Take me. To Hermione.</i>
</p>
<p>Draco shot up from the chair and backed away, hands clenched at his sides as he paced across Harry's office.</p>
<p>An ashtray floated in front of him, stopping him in mid-turn. He stared at it until it blurred in his vision. "Smoking inside the Ministry is against policy," he said with a ruthless grip on his voice. He refused to let it shake.</p>
<p>"Private office of the Head Auror," Harry said. He flicked his wand and a cabinet opened, a bottle of Firewhiskey and three glasses floating to his desk. "And Mandamus doesn't see a thing."</p>
<p>"Left my spectacles in my office," Mandamus said as he took one of the filled glasses. "A shame, really."</p>
<p>Draco's fingers were cold enough that snapping them to light his cigarette took three tries. He stood on the far side of the room, reading one of the dozen awards on the wall in efforts to distract himself from his thoughts. "Daisy Darcy's Day School's Favorite Celebrity of 2006," he said. "Seriously, Potter?"</p>
<p>"Hey, I earned that. Tough competition that year. I was up against a chocolate company's bunny mascot and a duck that raised a flock of chickens."</p>
<p>Draco shook his head with a long exhale of smoke through his nose. The few moments of distraction had him feeling steadier, his fingers warming slowly. "I won't testify," he said, turning around to face Mandamus. "I won't. Not about this."</p>
<p>"All right," Mandamus said. "That's all I need from you, then. A personal complaint from you might give her another ten or fifteen years, considering the egregiousness of the attack, but we already have enough to put her away for a couple of decades. The Unspeakables don't look at all kindly on that kind of misconduct and they have some damn fine solicitors in their ranks. Or maybe they don't. You never know with Unspeakables.</p>
<p>"We're preparing to make an arrest," he continued. "Friday. The public Ministry-sponsored picnic in Carlotta Pinkstone Park. Report on Blackpool's movements indicate that he'll be in attendance as a guest of his soon-to-be ex-girlfriend. You are <em>not</em> to interfere, Malfoy, and that is a direct order. You know the policy. Hell, you have it memorized. Potter may assist, but you'll stay out of it. Is that clear?"</p>
<p>Draco ground his teeth but didn't protest. He knew the policy, and as much as it galled him, he understood the reasons for it. During the war, too many Aurors had been personally involved in pursuits of Dark wizards, and too many Aurors had been killed because they let that involvement get the better of them. "Understood, sir," he said again.</p>
<p>Mandamus drained his glass, nodded to Harry, and strode for the door. He stopped before opening it, then looked at Draco. "Wear your uniform next Monday," he said.</p>
<p>Draco narrowed his eyes. "Any particular reason?"</p>
<p>Mandamus gave a tight, close-mouthed smile. "Yes." He stepped out of the office without another word, yanking the door shut behind him.</p>
<p>Harry pushed a glass of Firewhiskey across the desk with the tip of his wand as Draco tapped his cigarette into the floating ashtray. "Off the record," Harry said, examining the earpiece of his glasses. "Why won't you present a complaint? I'm not seeing much difference between what she did and what you've testified to before."</p>
<p>Draco sat in the chair opposite the desk. "Aunt Bella's Legilimency lessons, you mean."</p>
<p>Harry nodded silently, his eyes never moving from his hands as he cleaned his lenses. </p>
<p>"Because...." This wasn't something he talked about. His loathing for Bella was well-known and most people had their own theories as to why he hated her. A good many of them came close to the truth. She had been a vicious witch, nearly as evil as their joint master, and she delighted in pain. If she hadn't been killed in the last battle, he would have testified to the Wizengamot, given them every bit of information he had, if they'd promised that he would be allowed to execute her himself.</p>
<p>"Off the record," he said. "And I will never tell you this again." He closed his eyes, brushing lightly over the memories of Bella's training, then turning away from them, a stone wall forming in his thoughts. </p>
<p>
  <i>Jasmine, amber. Cinnamon and safety.</i>
</p>
<p>Draco took a long drag off his cigarette and held the smoke in his lungs. It floated out with his words when he spoke. "Because Bellatrix took pleasure in beating the shit out of me in both physical and mental duels. Every time she broke into my mind, she'd—She'd knock me on my arse, crawl on top of me, scream into my face, and call me a fucking coward and a worthless waste of a bloodline."</p>
<p>
  <i>Do you think that's sufficient, nephew? Do you think that will do? A fist in his hair, head thumped to the floor, sharp nails digging into his cheeks. Dry, cracked lips twisting in a snarl, rancid breath hitting his mouth. Dark hair, stinking of oakmoss, falling around him. Fight back, coward. Show me what you can do, boy, or you'll never live to be a man.</i>
</p>
<p>Draco fought back. He shoved the memories deep, slammed them behind an amber-mortared wall, tied them in vines of jasmine. He called Hermione's face to the front of his mind.</p>
<p>
  <i>A fan of lashes on her cheeks as she sleeps. A hint of ink at the corner of her mouth. Gold flecks in her eyes, light brown freckles across the bridge of her nose. A brilliant pink blush warming her cheeks. The point of her tongue wetting her lips as she leans closer and murmurs his name.</i>
</p>
<p>He tucked the cigarette into the corner of his mouth and locked his hands together, staring down at them through the curls of white smoke. "Bella was cruel. And she never made me feel as destroyed as Prier did. Bella tortured me. That woman <em>hurt</em> me."</p>
<p>Harry didn't speak right away. After a few moments, Draco heard him give a soft exhale. "All right," Harry said quietly. "That's that. Won't bring it up again."</p>
<p>Draco looked up to see Harry lean back in his chair and drain his Firewhiskey in two long swallows. "So. The Ministry picnic this Friday," he said in a flagrant topic change. "Pansy's insisting we all go as a group. Good opportunity for some of that relationship flaunting we discussed yesterday."</p>
<p>Draco blew a smoke ring at the ceiling. "I'll talk to Hermione when I come over for dinner tonight. I hate to say it, but once she's informed of the details, she'll likely be all for it. You Gryffindors delight in dangerous plans and we both know she can be fairly scary when she puts her mind to it." Deliberately, he smirked at Harry. "Fair warning, I'll be staying the night."</p>
<p>Harry glared at the cactus on his desk and poked it with his wand. "Don't make me need this."</p>
<hr/>
<p>"Good god, Parks, how many picnic baskets did you bring?" Draco stared down at the patchwork of blankets covering the grass. There were already a half-dozen small baskets scattered around one side, and Harry and Pansy had just Apparated with several more. </p>
<p>Pansy shoved a bundle of fabric and poles into his hands. "Put the canopy up and stop whinging," she said. "I'm feeding two highly active Aurors here, one of whom is a giant. Plus I know you're going to be playing Quidditch and then you'll both be starving."</p>
<p>Laughing, Draco set the disassembled canopy down to start snapping the poles together. "You do know us. But can you blame us? It's a gorgeous day."</p>
<p>"I did accidentally slip my gauntlets into one of these," Harry said, carefully setting his baskets down. "Don't know how that happened. And I have no idea why my broom is already here."</p>
<p>"I might have accidentally brought my gauntlets and my broom as well." Draco nodded to the long leather bag he'd dropped at the edge of the blankets.</p>
<p>"Knew it," Pansy muttered. She knelt by the baskets, pulled out a palm-sized square of marble, and tapped it with her wand. When she set it on the blankets, it expanded into a low round table, high enough to get their knees under.</p>
<p>Most of their knees, at least. Draco looked at the table, looked at Pansy, and slowly arched one brow. Pansy rolled her eyes but tapped the table again and raised it a few more inches. "You know you're too tall," she said. </p>
<p>"You're welcome to raise a complaint with my ancestors." Draco drew his wand as Harry joined him. Together they raised the canopy over the blankets and settled it onto the poles. A few charms kept everything steady. Draco ducked under the canopy and stood up straight in the center, which cleared his head by an inch. "Good enough," he said, tucking his wand away.</p>
<p>"I thought Malfoys only accepted the best," Hermione said from behind him. "What's this 'good enough' business?"</p>
<p>Draco turned, smiling down at her. "Wondered where you were." He cupped her cheek and started to bend down to her but Hermione shook her head.</p>
<p>She took his hand and tugged him out from beneath the canopy, putting them into full view of the nearby Ministry employees and their families all setting up their own picnic areas. Hermione glanced around, then tipped her head up. "Better," she said, her lips barely moving. "Now everyone can see us."</p>
<p>Draco swallowed down a sigh. Hermione <em>had</em> been very enthused about the 'flaunting' plan once he'd discussed it with her. He wasn't certain if she was more excited by the possibility of luring out a killer or by the chance for some socially-acceptable exhibitionism. Either way, she'd been all for it.</p>
<p>He wasn't nearly as keen on luring their killer by using his girlfriend as bait but he did have to admit he didn't object to the flaunting. He cradled her cheek and bent to her again, kissing her. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and slid one knee up his leg, and Draco picked her up, holding her off the ground with her thighs locked on his hips. "Granger," he murmured against her mouth. "Do you—"</p>
<p>She gripped his hair and growled softly, shoving her other hand beneath his lightweight jumper to rake her nails down his spine.</p>
<p>Draco instinctively groaned deep in his throat, both hands digging into the bottoms of her thighs. She clung to him, sucking his bottom lip as they slowly broke the kiss, and Draco gave her a dozy look when she smiled at him. "H'ne?" he tried. "That, er. That. Hi?"</p>
<p>"Hi," she said, brushing his fringe away from his eyes. "Put me down, Draco."</p>
<p>"M'kay." He set her down, arm around her shoulders once she was solidly on her feet. "Hi," he said again.</p>
<p>She slipped her arm around his waist and smiled up at him. "It's fantastic when I can make you speechless, you know. Makes me feel almost as powerful as the first time I held a wand."</p>
<p>"God," Draco mumbled, rubbing his jaw. "You have no idea how much power you have over me."</p>
<p>Hermione's eyes brightened, the gold flecks in them gleaming in the sunlight. She laid her head on his chest and squeezed his waist. "Draco, I—" She exhaled sharply, shaking her head against him.</p>
<p>He stroked her curls and inhaled the burst of jasmine as her sun-warmed curls moved under his hand. "What is it?"</p>
<p>"Never mind," she said. "Just something I thought about saying." </p>
<p>She turned to Harry when he approached them and gave him a quick, one-armed hug. "Let me guess," she said. "You're about to drag Draco off for a pickup match."</p>
<p>"I am but only if you're done with him," Harry said, his gauntlets dangling from one hand. "You've clearly got first claim."</p>
<p>Hermione released them both with a smile. "I'm done for now. Pansy and I will come watch once we finish with the setup. Try not to get injured while I'm not looking, Draco, or I'll be forced to shout at you."</p>
<p>"I know, I'm on your list," Draco said with a smile as he shouldered his equipment bag and followed Harry away from the canopy, glancing back once to give a wave to Hermione. Once they were well out of earshot, he let his smile drop. "What's going on, Potter? Are you actually pulling me away for a game or was that an excuse?"</p>
<p>"Little of this, little of that," Harry said. "I needed to let you know that someone's been asking around about you. Average height—well, short to you. Male, balding, late forties or early fifties, northern accent."</p>
<p>"Not very helpful. I know several men of that description. Anything more distinctive?"</p>
<p>"Afraid not. He kept slipping away whenever someone looked like they were going to question him back."</p>
<p>Draco nodded and touched his wand, making certain it was ready for a quick draw. "I'll keep an eye out." </p>
<p>They approached the area that had been marked off for a half-sized pitch and stood to the edge of the crowd, watching a group of young children hovering less than ten feet off the grass. The Snitch they were using was at least three times the size of a regulation ball, and Draco didn't see a single Bludger. He suspected the ground had been charmed to prevent injuries and was proven right when one girl fell off her broom and bounced several times, shrieking with glee on each bounce.</p>
<p>He watched the children flying in circles and couldn't stop himself from picturing his own children on the tiny brooms. His son, blond hair shining as bright as the Snitch, chubby hands locked around the broom shaft. His daughter, dark curls tucked behind her ears, little feet swinging to find the pegs. Small hoops and smaller Quaffles, screams of laughter and shouts to the sidelines. <i>Watch me, Daddy. Watch me! Mummy, look!</i></p>
<p>He desperately wanted to watch them zipping around with little red or green jerseys, their pale cheeks pink with the wind. He already knew where the pitch would go, behind the Manor, past the rose garden. Every time they walked out to watch their children, he'd pluck a rose for his wife to remind her of that first true date.</p>
<p>It was impossible for him to have that. But he could dream of it.</p>
<p>By the time the children's match had ended with only a few minutes of tears and scraped knees and elbows being kissed, and the charm removed from the ground for the next match, Pansy and Hermione had come to join him and Harry at the side of the pitch. </p>
<p>"Yes, we made sure everything was protected and shielded and all the other paranoid things Aurors insist on," Pansy said before either Draco or Harry could speak. "I set up the same screamers that I used to use on my makeup case back at Hogwarts."</p>
<p>Draco shuddered. "They'll hear that for miles, then. You were <em>very</em> protective over that case."</p>
<p>"Had to keep Millicent out of it somehow. She had sticky fingers and I'm not talking theft." Pansy nestled in against Harry. "What are you two going to play? Can't both be Seeker."</p>
<p>"Actually, we can," Harry said. "They're going to set up an all-Seeker match. I signed us both up already. Twenty Snitches, ten players. Most grabs wins."</p>
<p>Draco interlaced his fingers and stretched both arms over his head. "Long arms means more grabs, you know. Advantage, Malfoy."</p>
<p>"Fuck off," Harry muttered.</p>
<p>Draco laughed as he set his equipment bag on the ground and opened it to pull out his broom.</p>
<p>Hermione stopped him before he could tug on his gauntlets. She smiled up at him and put them on for him, fastening the buckles tight. "Remember the first time I did this for you?"</p>
<p>"Of course I do, Granger."</p>
<p>Her smile deepened. "Then you remember what that fellow hinted I should be doing for you. While I was down there." She slid her hands up his arms to spread over his chest and winked at him. "Think after the match <em>this</em> time, I should follow through."</p>
<p>Draco caught his lip in his teeth and stifled a grunt. Her eyes were full of promise and he intended to take her up on that offer. "After the match," he echoed, dipping down to kiss her.</p>
<p>He squeezed her fingers before stepping away to knock Harry's ankles with the bristles of his broom. "Come on, Potter," he said. "Let's show these people how real Seekers do it."</p>
<p>Eight other players walked onto the pitch with them. Draco looked back to Hermione and grinned at her as he kicked off the ground. Tensing his thighs, he flipped his broom backwards, somersaulting in the air with his hands tucked behind his head.</p>
<p>"Show off," Harry said. "By the way, no fouls in this match. So pushing, shoving, and cheating are encouraged." </p>
<p>The whistle blew. Snitches zipped across the pitch.</p>
<p>Harry grabbed one of Draco's footpegs, yanked his broom off-axis, and hauled him sideways before taking off.</p>
<p>Draco regained his balance with a shouted laugh and gave chase. He personally committed fifteen of the seven hundred fouls within the first ten minutes of the match, most of them on Harry. Harry scored twelve on him.</p>
<p>By the time the last Snitch was caught and the final whistle blew, Draco had six of the Snitches, Harry had six, and the remaining players had one each. Draco landed near Hermione, grinning up at Harry as he came to ground. "Tied, Potter. And if you hadn't cobbed me on that last one, I would have been ahead."</p>
<p>"Oh, did my elbow hit you? What a shame." Harry handed his broom to Pansy and stripped off his gauntlets. "Maybe if you hadn't blagged me, you wouldn't have a bruise on your ribs."</p>
<p>Draco wiped one hand through his hair, shaking his head. "Did you see any blagging, Granger? I'd never have done that. Not to Harry 'Chosen One' Potter. Not me. I'm innocent here."</p>
<p>"You've been a cheat since you were twelve, Draco," Hermione said, slipping her arm around his waist. "Probably longer, but that's when I first started seeing you play."</p>
<p>"Admitting you watched my matches? Why, Granger. It's the leather, isn't it?" He smiled down at her, flashing his brows.</p>
<p>Hermione patted the back of his leg. "Broom thighs." Her hand slid higher. "This too. Might even be nicer than your thighs."</p>
<p>Draco blinked rapidly as she squeezed his arse. "That, er. Well. You know. I try to stay in shape."</p>
<p>She pinched, startling him into a laugh. "I can tell," she said. "Those Italian suits show this off to perfection. Can you get them cut tighter?"</p>
<p>Before he could gather enough of his mind to respond, red sparks shot into the sky on the far side of the pitch. All four of them looked up. Harry dropped his gauntlets, broke away from Pansy, and spun in place, Disapparating without a word. </p>
<p>Draco pulled Hermione to him, his hand spreading across her back as shouting rose up. He could see a struggle in the crowd, and he held his free hand out to Pansy. She shook her head but stepped closer to him regardless, Harry's broom tucked tight against her side.</p>
<p>"What's going on?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>"Don't know," Draco said. He didn't look away from the commotion, his height making it easy for him to see several Aurors surrounding a man facing away from him. He saw Mandamus speaking to the man, the shape of his lips forming the official caution and arrest.</p>
<p>The Aurors turned the man around and Draco felt his lips curling in a sharp, vicious smile. </p>
<p>"Draco?" Hermione lifted her head, looking up at him. "What is it?"</p>
<p>"Who is it?" Pansy asked.</p>
<p>Draco held Hermione closer, his hand on the back of her neck. "Colin Blackpool," he said. "They've arrested Colin Blackpool."</p>
<p>Pansy gave him a confused look, but Draco paid her no mind. Hermione had gasped and taken a crushing grip on his hand, her fingers locked between his. "Draco? Did you file a complaint? You said you might but he never actually touched me so I didn't think you would have and—"</p>
<p>"No," he said, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. "I didn't. Mandamus is making the arrest himself. I know what this is. Blackpool was the man behind that false inquiry."</p>
<p>Pansy's eyes tightened and her hands twisted on Harry's broom. "He paid McGowan and Prier."</p>
<p>He nodded. "Mandamus told me they'd be catching him today."</p>
<p>It took her a moment, then Pansy made a sharp nod. She bent to grab Harry's gauntlets. "Right. I'll go back to our canopy, then. I didn't hear Harry's badge calling and I'll bet he left it in one of the baskets. He'll want it." She looked at Draco with Hermione, gave a little knowing smile, and walked back the way they'd come.</p>
<p>"Why aren't you over there?" Hermione asked. "If this is about the inquiry, you should—"</p>
<p>"I'm not involved." Draco took a deep breath, concentrating on the scent of her hair. "It's policy. No Auror may investigate any activity or incident in which they have a personal interest. And I'm sure you'll be shocked to hear that I have a very personal interest in this particular arrest."</p>
<p>"Are you all right?" Hermione said. She turned to face him and went up on her toes to touch her fingers to the back of his neck. "Do you need—What do you need?"</p>
<p>Draco bent down to kiss her, lips moving softly across her mouth. He tipped his forehead against hers and let her scent surround him. Amber and jasmine, a hint of cinnamon. "I'm good," he said between kisses. "I have everything I need right here."</p>
<hr/>
<p>Draco sipped his coffee and rested his arm on the back of the bench as Hermione slipped into the booth. "Sorry," she said, scooting close to press her hip to his. "There was a queue."</p>
<p>"One benefit to being male," he said with a little smile. "I rarely have to wait. I asked the server to come back in a few minutes. Didn't want to order for you, even though I was fairly certain you'd want something with a lot of whipped cream on it."</p>
<p>"Correction. I want <em>you</em> to have something with a lot of whipped cream on it. You always lick it off your fingers and that does something to me."</p>
<p>Draco laughed quietly. "You have proven to be rather fond of my tongue."</p>
<p>"And your fingers." She leaned her head on his shoulder and angled her head to smile up at him. "And speaking of how you use those fingers, and the places you use them. My room. Is my bed big enough now? Harry did the extension charms and Pansy helped me shop for a new mattress set but I'm afraid it's still a little cramped for you."</p>
<p>"A little," he admitted. More than a little, he thought. He was used to having enough room to stretch out and move around. In Hermione's bed, he didn't dare move much. But having to sleep curled up was tempered well by sleeping curled up with her. "I don't mind. There's more room than there was the first time I slept with you."</p>
<p>"We didn't need a lot that night," Hermione said. "You were ... well. You spent most of the night wrapped around me." She reached up to touch his hand, then pulled it down over her shoulder to toy with his fingers. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I was so worried about you."</p>
<p>"I know. But everything worked out all right. You took good care of me, Hermione. You didn't have to do it." He tipped his head to kiss her temple. "I appreciate that you did. Sometimes I—"</p>
<p>He held his breath for a moment, letting it out slowly and lowering his voice. He didn't like speaking things like this aloud, but if he couldn't trust Hermione with it, he couldn't possibly trust anyone. He loved her, and he trusted her. She was worth some vulnerability. "Sometimes I'm afraid I'll get locked in a memory forever. That felt like a night where it could have happened. But you were there and you pulled me out of it. I needed you. I was—"</p>
<p>He pressed his lips together, shaking his head. The words were catching in his throat. He'd managed to say more than he'd expected and he hoped she understood.</p>
<p>"You were hurt." Hermione drew his hand to her mouth and kissed his knuckles. "It's over now."</p>
<p>"It is. It's done."</p>
<p>"Why did he do it? Did Harry or Mandamus tell you?"</p>
<p>Draco nodded. "The encounters we had at the club? Those, plus my previous run-in with him, were driving him mad. He blamed me for embarrassing him and figured if he threw enough money at the situation, he could get something to hold over me. Humiliate me. Possibly even control me. A lot of people think the Mark is a permanent sort of Imperius curse, that the Dark Lord could use it to actually take over his servants." He sighed, the muscles in his forearm tensing before he flexed his fingers and forced his arm to relax. "He didn't need that. He had other means of controlling us."</p>
<p>"Revenge? That was Blackpool's whole motive?" Hermione huffed. "That's ridiculous."</p>
<p>"Some men can't handle even a small blow to their ego, especially when sex is involved. He thought I took a woman away from him, and then I stopped him from taking my woman away from me. He hates me. That was enough for a man like him to go to those lengths. That sort only understands money, power, and hurting other people."</p>
<p>She twisted on the bench to face him, her hand against his cheek. Stroking his jaw, she looked into his eyes. "I know you don't like to talk about things, Draco, but— But if you ever feel like you want to talk about what happened. In the inquiry specifically, I meant, but also for anything. You've—you've been hurt a lot in your life and you don't want to talk about any of it and that's okay. But if you ever want to. I'm here."</p>
<p>Draco put his fingers under her chin and tipped her head up. "I'll make you a promise," he said, kissing the tip of her nose. "If I ever want to talk to someone, I'll talk to you."</p>
<p>"I'll hold you to that," she said. "Now, to get away from that conversation—"</p>
<p>"Thank you."</p>
<p>"There's something I wanted to ask you. You're a terrible dancer."</p>
<p>"That's not a question," he said with a laugh. "But yes, I am."</p>
<p>"But you weren't. Not before. We danced at Kjeldsen's wedding and at Harry's, and you didn't step on my feet or bump into another couple, not once. You weren't exactly on the beat, I remember, but you weren't <em>terrible</em>. Why were you so bad at the club?"</p>
<p>Draco looked down into her face, then bent to whisper to her ear. "Because at those weddings, I was completely focused on you. I told you, I'm better when there's not an audience, and I was concentrating on you and you alone so that I would enjoy every single moment of something I never thought I'd have again. As far as I was concerned, we were the only two people at either wedding."</p>
<p>He kissed the point of her jaw, his voice dropping to that rumble she liked so much. "But at the club, all I could think about were the things I was going to do to you <em>with</em> an audience. Couldn't begin to focus on my footwork when I was imagining you screaming my name while a dozen people watched us. And then there were all the things I was going to do once we were alone. I was <em>shaking</em> with anticipation, pet. I'm honestly surprised I didn't knock us over."</p>
<p>"Oh, god." Her eyes drifted closed. "That's—me too." She tipped her head back and he kissed her throat, his tongue flickering over her pulse. Hermione made a soft noise, pressing closer to him, her hand sliding around his nape to rub his neck. </p>
<p>"I spent that entire night shaking," he said, touching his lips to hers. "From anticipation, from trying to be gentle with you, to not being gentle in the slightest. And finally from exhaustion. It was a night I'd wanted for years, and I'm still not entirely certain that it happened. How can a dream like that come true?"</p>
<p>"It can. It did. It came true for both of us." Hermione parted her lips and drew him into a deep kiss, one that left her lips wet and gleaming when she pulled away. </p>
<p>They both startled when a cough came from just outside the booth, and Draco hid a smile in Hermione's hair as the server tapped her pencil on her order pad. "You two ready?" the server asked in a bored voice.</p>
<p>Hermione squeaked. "Um. We. I don't—"</p>
<p>Draco lifted his head. "Chocolate mousse, thank you. Two spoons."</p>
<p>The server rolled her eyes and slouched away.</p>
<p>"Not the best service," Hermione said, rubbing her flushed cheeks as she sat up.</p>
<p>"No. But if you want to be seen in Diagon Alley, this is the place to do it. Notable names and all that." Draco flicked a glance at the glass wall that took up the entire front of the restaurant. </p>
<p>Every witch and wizard passing by took a look through the large window, most nudging their companions and nodding or pointing to someone inside. Celestina Warbeck was holding court at one corner table, four of the Montrose Magpies were at a table near the door, and he and Hermione had taken a booth that was in the direct eyeline of everyone that walked past the restaurant. He'd noticed several camera flashes, including one by Skeeter's photographer, who'd managed to get inside and take a dozen pictures before the restaurant staff threw him out. </p>
<p>Hermione hummed under her breath, tipping her head. "Is that—" She leaned forward slightly, peering at the edge of the glass wall. "Draco, that man by the window. That looks like Geoffrey, doesn't it? From the club? But why would he dye his hair red?"</p>
<p>Draco nodded. "It's a hairpiece or a charm. He's been there a few minutes." He lowered his voice to a murmur. "Probably has a report for me. I made him one of my informants."</p>
<p>"Oh, that explains it," she said. "I could have sworn I saw him at the Ministry picnic yesterday but I didn't get a long enough look to be sure. He was looking for you, I'll bet. You must be hard to catch. I've seen him a couple times this week."</p>
<p>Draco looked directly at Geoffrey, his eyes narrowing as the man backed out of sight. "Have you?" he asked in a bland tone. "Where, exactly?"</p>
<p>"Let's see. I was out with Pansy on Tuesday, and he was in the bookshop. Then Thursday, I made my usual run to the greengrocer to get some fresh vegetables and he was across the street. I went to the apothecary after that and he was walking past just as I was leaving. I guess he was hoping you'd be with me."</p>
<p>Draco rubbed the backs of his knuckles along his jaw. "You said your usual run. And you go to the apothecary every week. On the same day?"</p>
<p>Hermione nodded. "They both get their deliveries on Thursday. I like to buy fresh."</p>
<p>"Do you go to the bookshop on the same day every week?"</p>
<p>"Usually, yes."</p>
<p>"So this is a routine for you. A schedule."</p>
<p>"I like to have a routine. Always have. Schedules and color-coded lists." She stopped talking when the server put their mousse and two long-handled spoons on the table, then looked at him once they were alone. "You sound off."</p>
<p>"Cautious," he said. "Just typical Auror cautiousness. He lives in Yorkshire. He shouldn't be spending that much time in the London area, much less Diagon Alley itself. You might be right that he was looking for me. Potter did say someone at the picnic was asking around about me. Likely him."</p>
<p>"Your words say 'cautious' but your voice says 'suspicious', Draco. You're an excellent Auror and if you're suspicious, there's reason to be. Do you think he's following me? Should I switch up my routine?"</p>
<p>Draco licked mousse off his spoon. "No. I don't think that's necessary. He's not the kind of person who'd be comfortable walking into the Ministry, for various reasons. Especially not into MLE." </p>
<p>He didn't like that Jessup was making appearances in Diagon Alley, not in such proximity to Hermione. It unsettled him. It was possible that Jessup was looking for him to make a report, but he found that unlikely. In his experience, a man like that would avoid him until he was forced to bang down the man's door. Again.</p>
<p>But it did make him think. He needed to check the reports of his victims' movements in the days before they went missing. Quiet, kept to themselves. Maybe they all had routines as regular as Hermione had.</p>
<p>Draco shook his head and smiled at Hermione, hoping that he managed to put reassurance into his tone when he spoke. "I'd imagine you're right. He's trying to find me by finding you. Not a bad assumption that I'd be with you. I'll go with you on a couple of your usual stops next week, make it easier. Plus we can continue flaunting our relationship."</p>
<p>"That's not very difficult," she said. "Keep licking that mousse and I'll flaunt right here and now."</p>
<p>Draco leaned back in the booth, laughing. Deliberately, he dipped the spoon into the mousse and looked at her.</p>
<p>Hermione leaned forward, held his wrist, and licked the spoon with her entire tongue. She made a quiet moan, never looking away from his eyes.</p>
<p>He took a tight grip on the bench behind her. "Trying to kill me, Granger?"</p>
<p>"No." She dragged her tongue across her lip. "Trying to get you hot."</p>
<p>Bending to her, he kissed away a spot of mousse she'd missed. "It's working."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco drummed his fingers on his knee, then forced himself to stillness. Across the waiting room, Harry lifted his brows. "All right, Malfoy?"</p>
<p>"Not entirely. I still don't know why I needed to be in uniform for whatever this is," Draco said. He hooked his finger in the neck of his jacket and tugged it away from his throat. "It's uncomfortable."</p>
<p>"This from a man who wears suits and ties every day of his life. I don't understand how <em>that</em> isn't uncomfortable. You have three-piece pyjamas, don't you?"</p>
<p>Draco let one corner of his mouth lift in a smirk. He stretched, tucking his hands behind his head. "You could always ask Granger what I wear to bed."</p>
<p>Harry made a face. Draco could see him contemplating a response, but they both stayed silent as the door of the office opened and Mandamus stepped out. "Potter, sit tight. Malfoy. Come in."</p>
<p>Draco followed Mandamus into the office, their footsteps completely muffled by the thick carpet. Two people were already in the room, ensconced in leather chairs near a fireplace. Draco's taut nerves tightened further. In addition to Mandamus, head of Magical Law Enforcement, he was facing the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and the Minister for Magic.</p>
<p>The last time he'd been in a room with the three people holding those titles, he'd been hours away from being sent to Azkaban. He ordered himself to keep breathing. He knew he'd gone paler than usual, knew his heart was pounding, but he was certain that any man would be nervous when confronted with the three people who had the most control over his freedom. </p>
<p>He lifted his chin, straightened his spine, and planted his feet. "Sir," he said, nodding to the Chief Warlock and the Minister in turn. "Minister."</p>
<p>"Draco Lucius Malfoy," Mandamus said to them as he took a seat between them. "In brief, sentenced in June of 1998 as a Death Eater, released June of 2000. Granted permission, by me, to apply for a position in MLE, and granted further permission to apply specifically to the Aurors."</p>
<p>Draco pressed his lips together, swallowing behind the high collar of his uniform as the two men watched him. He wasn't certain why Mandamus was reminding them of his history, what the purpose of it could be. It wasn't as though they didn't know him.</p>
<p>Malfoy. Death Eater. He couldn't hide who he was and what he'd done any more than Harry Potter could hide that lightning bolt scar. </p>
<p>He'd done everything the Ministry had required in the years since the war, obeyed the restrictions put on him and submitted to the examinations. Millions of Galleons had gone from his family's vaults to the reparations fund, and he'd surrendered many of the items and artifacts in the Manor as 'goods and property obtained through Dark or illicit means', forfeiting them forever. </p>
<p>"Setting a Dark wizard to hunt Dark wizards," the Minister said, rubbing his chin with a stubby finger. "It was a risk. There was a lot of grumbling over your decision to give him a waiver on the criminal background prohibition, Mandamus."</p>
<p>"And it paid off," Mandamus replied. "Auror Malfoy studied up, took the entrance exams August of 2001, and started training January 2002. Earned his place as Auror Constable, 2005, with excellent to outstanding marks in all final exams and courses. He's received several commendations since then for going beyond the requirements of duty, and an official mention in despatches. His case closure rate is over seventy percent, one of the highest in the department. Only a few weeks ago, he saved the lives of two children, risking his own in the process, and it's not the first time. He has been an exemplary Auror in every respect."</p>
<p>The Minister nodded. "Agreed."</p>
<p>"Auror Malfoy," the Chief Warlock said. "The Wizengamot originally sentenced you to ten years in Azkaban, but after deliberation we agreed that you would be released after you had served two years, the same length of your service as a Death Eater. One of the conditions of that release was that you would be subject to examination and inquiry at the Wizengamot's discretion. Correct?"</p>
<p>"A minimum of once per year," Draco confirmed, his voice carefully controlled. "Not to exceed once per quarter. From 2000 to 2005, I was examined every six months. The previous three years have been reduced to once every June."</p>
<p>The Minister leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "The inquiry you underwent this year was unsanctioned."</p>
<p>
  <i>It will hurt anyway, Death Eater.</i>
</p>
<p>Draco shoved the memory as deep as he could, covering it with the thought of gold-flecked eyes and dark curls. He folded his hands together behind his back, fingers curled into fists. "Yes, Minister. It was. It was false. I expect that I will need to attend another, properly sanctioned, in June."</p>
<p>The three older men exchanged glances. "Actually," the Chief Warlock said. "That's why we're here."</p>
<p>Draco's eyes widened. "Sir?"</p>
<p>The Minister heaved a sigh and stood, approaching Draco. "Auror Malfoy," the Minister said. "On behalf of the Ministry, the Wizengamot, and Magical Law Enforcement, please allow me to present our deepest and most sincere apologies."</p>
<p>Draco felt his heartbeat race. "Minister," he said. "I don't understand."</p>
<p>"The acts of Agatha McGowan and Atropine Prier were corrupt and fraudulent. This Ministry would not condone those actions on a guilty man, much less an innocent one. We apologize, Auror Malfoy. I apologize for the grievous mental harm to which you were subjected. I take full responsibility for it and I deeply regret that you were forced to endure that heinous cruelty. There's little we can do to make amends. Words cannot possibly make up for the damage caused. But I hope that what we offer will be acceptable to you."</p>
<p>He stepped to one side and the Chief Warlock stood. "In recognition of the impeccable results of all prior inquiries, and of your demonstrated devotion to the ideals of the Aurors and the pursuit of Dark wizardry, the Wizengamot has declared the conditions of your release rescinded. You will no longer be required to submit to examination." </p>
<p>He produced a scroll from inside his robes and held it out to Draco. "Official notice, Auror Malfoy. You will no longer appear before us unless necessary in the course of your duties as a law enforcement officer."</p>
<p>"Your annual payment to the war victim's fund is also cancelled," the Minister added. "If you choose to donate henceforth, that's your decision. But it will no longer be required. It's the least we could do." </p>
<p>For several moments, Draco couldn't move. He flexed his hands behind his back, eyes locked on the scroll the Chief Warlock held. No more inquiries. No more examinations. No invasive questions, no interrogations. </p>
<p>He was free. </p>
<p>He swallowed hard, brought his hands forward, and accepted the scroll. "Thank you, sir," he croaked.</p>
<p>The Minister and the Chief Warlock both shook his hand with small nods, then left the office.</p>
<p>Draco tucked the scroll inside his uniform. He let his fingers rest over the hidden pocket for a moment, the scroll crinkling from the pressure. It would go into his files at the Manor, with all the important paperwork that measured out his life. He thought instead of filing it chronologically, he'd put it at the very front, so that every time he looked at those records, he would see it. Freedom. His sentence was finally, completely, cleared.</p>
<p>Draco looked at Mandamus, who was warming his hands over the fire without looking away from the flames. Draco suspected he was being given a moment of privacy. He cleared his throat to catch Mandamus' attention. "Was there anything else, sir?"</p>
<p>"One more thing." Mandamus stood. He went to his desk and came back with a small box in his hands. "In recognition of your service, your dedication, and your commitment to the Auror Corps and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, earlier this year Head Auror Harry Potter submitted your name for promotion. After due consideration, I've approved. Filed the paperwork this morning and popped down to the equipment room myself." </p>
<p>He opened the box. A pair of shoulder epaulettes rested inside, embroidered with a five-digit number and crossed gold wands atop a three-bar chevron. "Congratulations, Auror Sergeant Draco Lucius Malfoy."</p>
<p>Draco stared at the rank insignia. That was his badge number.</p>
<p><em>His</em> badge number. Embroidered in gold. </p>
<p>"Sergeant?" he whispered. "Promotion?"</p>
<p>Slowly, he raised his eyes to look Mandamus in the face. "Sir? Sir, I—"</p>
<p>"Objecting to a new rank?"</p>
<p>Draco wet his lips. "No. I—I. No, that's not it." He closed his eyes and gave a silent, quaking laugh. "When I walked in here, I was positive I was about to be taken back to prison. The three of you. Together. It—"</p>
<p>He took a deep breath. "This is a shock."</p>
<p>Mandamus snorted. The formal tone dropped from his speech. "Be glad I stopped those two from their first impulse. They wanted to do up a big thing, folding chairs, podium, couple of speeches, all that rubbish. Was fairly sure you'd quit on the spot if we tried that."</p>
<p>"Very likely." </p>
<p>"Had them take your photo off the Dark wizards wall instead," Mandamus said. </p>
<p>Draco gave a quick, surprised smile. His photograph had been on that wall since the end of the war, as far as he knew. Dark wizard, in custody. No one had bothered to take it down, since the terms of his sentence were still technically in effect. If he'd failed one of his inquiries, he could have been returned to the prison at any time.</p>
<p>Taking his picture down was an open statement to everyone who walked through the department. Magical Law Enforcement no longer considered him to be a Dark wizard. That, more than anything the Minister or the Chief Warlock could have done, meant the world to Draco.</p>
<p>He touched the epaulettes gently. "Thank you. I accept."</p>
<p>Mandamus drew his wand and tapped the box. The epaulettes lifted up, swirled in the air, and fastened themselves to Draco's shoulders.</p>
<p>Mandamus shook his hand forcefully before clapping him on the back. "You've done good work. You deserve it."</p>
<p>"Thank you," Draco said again. He resisted the temptation to stroke his shoulders. He could smell the dye used on the cotton, the starch that stiffened the epaulettes, the metallic twists of the embroidery thread. </p>
<p>"We'll be looking into a squad for you," Mandamus said. "Eight's sergeant is thinking of retiring. Might not be able to do anything until next year, but we'll get a small command for you. Assuming you'd want to keep Cotterill and Choudhury?"</p>
<p>"If possible. They're good workers and they'll both be a credit to the Aurors once they pass their exams. I'd like to continue working with them."</p>
<p>"Don't suppose you'd be willing to transfer to the Yorkshire office?"</p>
<p>Draco couldn't stop the appalled twist of his expression. </p>
<p>Mandamus chuckled. "Didn't think so."</p>
<p>"I enjoy where I am, sir."</p>
<p>Mandamus looked at him for a moment, then he grinned. "Don't get too comfortable in your cubicle, Malfoy. If you're not an inspector by thirty, I'll be surprised." He clapped Draco on the back again. "Now, send Potter in and get the hell out of my office. Sergeant."</p>
<p>Draco gave a crisp nod, fighting with a grin. When he stepped back into the waiting room, he gave in to the temptation to touch his new epaulettes, the gold embroidery smooth under his fingertips. </p>
<p>"Mandamus gave you the stripes, then," Harry said. "I wondered if he'd do that today. Sort of a bonus for having to talk to the Minister."</p>
<p>"And the Chief Warlock. You couldn't have told me? Had to let me walk in there completely unprepared?"</p>
<p>"Didn't want to spoil the fun. Did you scream? Didn't hear anything but that door's thick enough, I might not have. I was hoping for a scream."</p>
<p>"You're a dick, Potter."</p>
<p>"Takes one to know one." </p>
<p>Draco laughed under his breath and allowed himself one more touch to the epaulettes. "The promotion," he said. "Thanks, Pot—No." He held his hand out. "Thank you, Harry."</p>
<p>Harry stood, adjusting his uniform jacket. He shook Draco's hand, his smile fading to a serious expression. "You earned it, Draco. Congratulations."</p><hr/>
<p>Hermione verified that all Ministry departments had returned the items they had due and that the archive clerks had checked for damages, marked them off on an inventory sheet, and organized the items by section. One of her favorite parts of her job was shelving, making certain that books were placed in their proper spots, and she hummed quietly as she gathered up an armload of books and headed deep into the archive stacks to reshelve them. "Sweetleaf's Lexicon," she muttered, putting a book into place. "Spindlewheel's Enchanters of the Eighteenth Century. Sturrock's Practical Charm Codex."</p>
<p>The last book she held needed to go on a high shelf. She huffed, pushing her hair out of her eyes. She'd left her stepstool in a different aisle and levitating the book onto the shelf was out of the question. Some of the books in this section reacted badly to magic. She tipped her head back and wrinkled her nose at the empty space that was well out of her reach. Even standing on tiptoe and holding the book by the bottom corner, it was still too high.</p>
<p>"Need a hand, Granger?" </p>
<p>She smiled to herself at the deep, familiar voice. "Up there," she said, holding the book out as she turned. "If you could—oh my <em>god</em>."</p>
<p>Uniform. Draco was wearing his uniform. </p>
<p>She'd thought he was attractive in his <em>suits</em>.</p>
<p>She knew the daily-wear uniform. She'd seen Harry in his kit dozens of times. Black tunic with three columns of gold buttons and a high, gold-lined collar. Black trousers, polished black shoes. But not once in three years had she seen Draco wearing his official Auror uniform. He wore suits, every day, and the only time she'd seen him in the uniform was at a distance, at official functions once or twice.</p>
<p>She couldn't look away from him.</p>
<p>The uniform was tailored to perfection, showing off his broad shoulders. The crisp pleat down the front of his trouser legs looked sharp enough to cut diamonds. The high, stiff collar covered the prisoner tattoo on his neck. He looked like he'd stepped out of one of the Aurors of England calendars that had been pinned all around the Gryffindor girls' dorm at Hogwarts. </p>
<p>It was entirely possible she'd started to drool, she realized.</p>
<p>The side of Draco's mouth curled in a smile. "What do you think?" he said, brushing one hand over the DMLE logo embroidered in gold thread on his cuff. "Told you I'd wear it for you one day."</p>
<p>Hermione carefully put the book on the highest shelf she could reach. She pushed her hair behind her shoulders, cleared her throat, and took his hands, spreading them wide. Looking him up and down, she nodded.</p>
<p>"Catch." She threw herself at him.</p>
<p>Draco caught her in mid-air. Laughing, he held her by the waist and lifted her until his head was tilted back and for once he was grinning up at her. "So you like it?" he asked</p>
<p>"I like it," she said. "I definitely—Draco!" She set her hands on his shoulders, able to see them from this angle. She patted the epaulettes, eyes wide as she counted the stripes in the chevrons. "Three bars. That's sergeant. Draco, did you— Are you— When did—"</p>
<p>"About fifteen minutes ago," he said. He lowered her to eye level, one arm sliding under her thighs to support her. "Mandamus called me in, gave me the news."</p>
<p>She instinctively locked her knees on his hips, arms around his neck. "You got promoted." She tipped to rest her forehead against his and brushed the tip of his nose. "Auror Sergeant Malfoy."</p>
<p>"Came straight here." Draco kissed her lightly, then let out a breath and rested his cheek against her temple. "Wanted you to be the first person I told."</p>
<p>Hermione held her breath. A year ago, she wouldn't have been the first person he came to. Not even a few months ago. Since they'd started this case together, she'd climbed up the ranks of his life. Past Blaise, past Pansy. Past everyone. </p>
<p>Something good happened to him, something he wanted his friends and family to know.</p>
<p>And <em>she</em> was the person he wanted to tell first.</p>
<p>Hermione clung to him. The realization was almost overwhelming. Her heart pounded. He wanted to come to her. She was the first person he thought of, the first person he wanted to tell his good news. When he'd been hurt, he'd wanted her, and when he was happy, he wanted her.</p>
<p>That meant something, she was sure of it. It meant something to him and it meant everything to her.</p>
<p>She nuzzled his neck above the high collar, lips moving in the hollow of his jaw. She shaped the words she didn't dare to speak, pressed them into his skin. "Congratulations," she said aloud. Lifting her head, she smiled at him. "I'm so proud of you."</p>
<p>He raised a brow, a hint of pink flooding across his cheeks as his eyes darkened. "Well," he said, voice rough as he set her on her feet. "Wasn't aware I had a praise kink too, but apparently I do. At least when you say it."</p>
<p>Hermione's smile broadened. "I wasn't aware I had a uniform kink, but I do when you wear it." She dragged her nails up the columns of gold buttons to rest her palms on his shoulders, the new epaulettes stiff under her hands. "Care to go into the back of the stacks and let me show you my appreciation?"</p>
<p>Draco chuckled, the sound a touch strained. "As much as I would enjoy that, I can't, Hermione. Not in uniform. It's against policy."</p>
<p>She stroked one finger down his chest and flicked the hem of his tunic, her nail tapping at the buckle of his belt. "Are you sure you want to abide by policy? I'm offering to suck you off right now." She licked her bottom lip. "Sir."</p>
<p>He swore under his breath. Catching her hand, he brought it up to press a kiss to her fingertips. "No, I don't want to abide by policy." Dipping down to her ear, he lowered his voice. "I <em>want</em> to drag you into the depths of the archives, back in that little corner where not even you can find anything to read, and fuck you up against a shelf."</p>
<p>Hermione trembled, pressing her legs together as a throb started deep inside her. She knew exactly the place he meant and she'd had several dreams that involved it, dreams that left her waking up with slick thighs and a racing heart. "So why don't—"</p>
<p>"But I'm not going to," Draco went on as he straightened up. "Because I got promoted not half an hour ago and I think it would be bad form to do that as my first act as a sergeant."</p>
<p>"You have a point." Wrinkling her nose, Hermione sagged against him. She let her hand slide down his stomach. Her fingers were on his zipper before he curled his hand around hers and pulled it away. Hermione huffed. "Fine. Ruin my fun."</p>
<p>He grinned down at her. "How about, after our date Friday, I go back to yours and I put the uniform on, just for you. Little private show. Absolutely no abiding by department policy. Flat-out ignoring it, really."</p>
<p>Hermione hummed, stroking his sides. "That sounds rather promising."</p>
<p>"It's meant to be." He touched her mouth, tracing the curve of her bottom lip. "Friday. I'll let you disgrace my uniform any way you like."</p>
<p>"It's only Monday," she said, a slight hint of a whine in her voice. "I'm not going to be able to work at all this week if I'm spending the entire time thinking about you in this uniform. You could come over tonight so I don't have to wait."</p>
<p>"Wish I could, Hermione," he said quietly. "But I have to be home tonight. Mum's—" He blinked, staring over her head, and gave a soft sigh. "Mum's personal Healer is coming to see her and I need to be there."</p>
<p>"Do you want company?"</p>
<p>"No!" He took a step back, breaking away from her embrace and shaking his head. "No," he said, lowering his voice. "No, it's fine. I'll be fine. I just ... need to be there. Just in case."</p>
<p>She tipped her head, watching his face. His pupils had narrowed, the skin around his eyes tightening. He was blocking something again. "Are you sure?"</p>
<p>"It's fine, Hermione. Don't fuss." He straightened his tunic with a sharp jerk to the hem and lifted his chin, giving her a tight smile. "I need to get back upstairs, still have a killer to find. Choudhury thinks she has some insight into vics three and four, been tracking their movements before they disappeared. I have to go over her reports."</p>
<p>He brushed past her. "I'll see you later. Maybe we can grab a coffee before I head back to Wiltshire."</p>
<p>Hermione turned to watch him, chewing on her lower lip. Even the rear view that she normally enjoyed couldn't distract her from noticing how stiff his shoulders were. She could see his thumb rubbing against the band of his signet ring as he walked away from her. "Draco," she called after him. </p>
<p>He stopped at the end of the aisle and looked back over his shoulder, his face absolutely still. "Yes?"</p>
<p>Her words died in her throat and she shook her head. "Never mind. Congratulations again. I'll talk to you later."</p>
<p>He nodded and disappeared from the aisle. </p>
<p>Hermione drummed her fingers on the nearest shelf, considering. His face had been—</p>
<p>Worried, she thought. Whatever he'd blocked from her in those few seconds, it had him worried. She wished she'd thought to touch his fingers before he left, to see how cold his hands had been. </p>
<p>She remembered the night she'd been in his lap and his owl had interrupted them, how he'd had to rush home for his mother. And now, something to do with Narcissa's Healer, coming to the Manor. Hermione knotted her brows. She was missing something, some piece that would make all the parts of the puzzle fit together logically. </p>
<p>Looking over her shoulder as if she was being watched, she left the S aisle and headed toward the M's and the Malfoy trial transcripts.</p>
<p>An hour later, she'd found a few pieces. Not much, nothing definite, but a few things made more sense. When she'd originally read these files, she'd concentrated on Draco's testimonies about Voldemort and the Death Eaters and the evil they'd all perpetrated. This time, she focused on the details he gave about Voldemort's effect on his family.</p>
<p>She'd known, in a distant and intellectual sense, that Voldemort had used Malfoy Manor as a headquarters, but she hadn't really thought about what that would mean to the Malfoys themselves. Draco, at least, had been able to escape to school for weeks on end. But he'd made it clear that Narcissa had been trapped in that house.</p>
<p>She'd gathered all of Narcissa's testimonies from the Malfoy files. She'd checked under Black, as well, but found nothing more than a note saying 'Black, Narcissa, ref: Malfoy, Narcissa' as a cross-reference. </p>
<p>What she could find was disjointed and unclear. Contradictory in places. </p>
<p>Narcissa was cold, unfeeling, even clinical as she gave her testimony. Or, Narcissa was hysterical, overwrought, and raving. Either she spoke without emotion or she screamed. She stared at the floor like she'd been drugged or her eyes were wild and burning.</p>
<p>Her only true concern had been for her family. For Draco. In one interview transcript, every single question put to Narcissa had been answered with the same sentence. <i>Please let me see my son.</i></p>
<p>Hermione sat up in her chair and stretched her back. She closed the file on her desk, flattening one bent corner with her thumbnail. There was a common thread somewhere in all of this, something that explained the two very different aspects Narcissa had shown at the end of the war. Something that explained why Draco dropped everything the moment Narcissa needed him. </p>
<p>Something that explained why, of all the things he wouldn't talk about, the topic of his mother was one of the few that made him outright nervous.</p>
<p>Hermione opened her leather portfolio and dipped her quill. She started with an action list: check the archives, read transcripts. She considered adding 'talk to Pansy' to the list, then discarded the idea. There would be no way to ask without it getting back to Draco.</p>
<p>Instead, she recorded several pages of notes, all her observations, everything she knew. There was an answer, and she knew she could find it.</p><hr/>
<p>Friday afternoon when she came back from a meeting, there was a folded note on her desk, resting underneath a dark red rose, petals tipped in black. It was the same type of rose he'd given her on their date to Le Sorcier. Smiling to herself, Hermione held the flower to her nose as she opened the note, inhaling the deep, honey-sweet perfume. She expected Draco would be telling her where he was taking her for their date that evening.</p>
<p>The rose drooped in her hand as she read. His handwriting was spiked and scrawled across the page, clearly written in a hurry.</p>
<p>
  <i>Have to cancel tonight. DLM</i>
</p>
<p>Hermione stared at the single line, then turned the note over as if she'd find more details on the back. There was nothing. Four words and his initials. That was the sum of it. </p>
<p>She pressed her lips together, eyes narrowing. He didn't explain himself often, but this was terse and enigmatic even for him. She hadn't seen him around the Ministry since Monday, but had assumed he was busy with the case or with the necessary work to firm up his promotion. But this note and canceled date spoke to other reasons.</p>
<p>Her heels clicked hard on the floor as she hurried into the Auror department and straight to Draco's cubicle. He wasn't there. As far as she could tell, he hadn't been there at all that day.</p>
<p>She folded her arms, staring at the tiny desk crammed into the space. A stack of files rested at the back, an elegant black fountain pen resting on top. A small shelf held a row of blue-covered procedural manuals, each marked on the spine with the DMLE logo. Draco's desk was neat and well-organized. There were a few articles pinned to the rear wall, including, she noticed, the cover photograph of the two of them kissing outside Gaudere.</p>
<p>If she hadn't been so worried about him, seeing that photo pinned to his cubicle as a keepsake would have melted her heart.</p>
<p>"Looking for Malfoy?" a woman asked behind her.</p>
<p>Hermione turned and nodded at the Auror, a woman she'd seen around the department before. "I need to talk with him."</p>
<p>"He wasn't in today. Barely been here at all this week." The Auror shrugged. "Probably out in the field. Can see if his trainees are around, if you want."</p>
<p>"No," Hermione said. She heard the tight tone in her voice and apologized quickly. "No, thank you. I'll find him myself. It's not work-related."</p>
<p>Harry's office was empty but someone reported he'd gone to the loo. She lurked outside the door to the gents, thumb rubbing the band of the greyhound ring. "Harry," she blurted as soon as he stepped out. "Where's Draco?"</p>
<p>The startled look in his eyes flipped to wariness. "He's taking a few days," Harry said. </p>
<p>"It's his mother, isn't it?"</p>
<p>Harry rubbed his scar, sighing. "It's none of your business, Hermione. If he wanted you—"</p>
<p>"If he wanted me to know, he'd tell me himself. I'm tired of being told it's none of my business to know something that affects not only my relationship with Draco but that clearly affects his <em>life</em>. Or does every Auror who gets promoted immediately take the rest of the week off?" </p>
<p>She stepped closer to Harry, lowering her voice. "I talked to him on Monday. He said Narcissa's Healer was coming over and he was very emphatic that he needed to be there for her. He's worried about something and it's something to do with her. I want to know what's so important. What has him so <em>worried</em>. All I want to do is help him, Harry. You know how I—" She shook her head, her throat tightening. "You know how I feel about him. So if there's something—" </p>
<p>"Hermione." Harry cut her off with a gesture. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. </p>
<p>She held her breath, hands locked together. Her fingers felt cold, like Draco's when he was trapped in a memory. "Something's wrong, Harry. I want to know what it is. I can't help him if I don't know." Heart fluttering against her ribs, she stared at Harry, waiting for him to speak, to confirm what she suspected. </p>
<p>After a few moments, Harry moved to stand barely an inch from her, his head bowed. "He's at home, Hermione. Yes, it's to do with Narcissa. No, I'm not going to tell you any more than that."</p>
<p>"But if she's—"</p>
<p>"No more than that." Harry gave her a long and heavy look. "If you want to know more, you'll have to ask him."</p>
<p>"But, Harry—"</p>
<p>Harry raised his brows, his eyes wide. "I can't answer more questions, Hermione. You'll have to talk to Malfoy. He's at home."</p>
<p>"Is that all you're going to say?" </p>
<p>"It is. I can't say anything more. I have to get back to my office and do a little rearranging. Two Aurors on maternity leave, one in hospital, and one taking a few days compassionate leave. Department's a mess."</p>
<p>Hermione opened her mouth, then stopped. Harry was staring at her, his expression a strange mix of frustration and encouragement. She glanced down at her hands, at the silver greyhound ring, then back up to Harry's face. </p>
<p>She thought about the rose left on her desk, about the hurried scrawl of Draco's handwriting on the note. It wasn't like him to cancel plans without notice, to go days without speaking to her, not without a warning in advance.</p>
<p>Harry was the head of the department and couldn't give out details about the personal problems of one of his Aurors. But he was also her best friend, and she knew he was doing his best to tell her what she needed to know. He could tell her that Draco had a family emergency, but he couldn't tell her any specifics. It was enough, she decided. He'd tried. He'd been trying since the start of the case, giving her support and encouragement even when she was still making the effort to convince him—and herself—that she was only working toward finding their killer.</p>
<p>"All right," Hermione said quietly. "I understand."</p>
<p>"Do you—"</p>
<p>"I get it, Harry." She gave him a small smile. "You're a good friend. To both of us."</p><hr/>
<p>Hermione stared at the tall iron gate, her teeth caught in her lip as she fought to keep her breath steady. The last time she'd seen this gate, she'd been dragged through it. That day was mostly a blur in her memories, a layer of pain over everything that had happened, but she remembered the gate.</p>
<p>It was colder than it should be for an April day, the air heavy with dark clouds. On the other side of the gate, the Manor was almost hidden in a strange and swirling fog. She could barely see the yellow sandstone of the huge house down the long gravel lane. A scream echoed in the distance and she shuddered, telling herself it was one of the white peacocks.</p>
<p>She stepped up to the gate and raised her hand.</p>
<p>"No visitors," the gate said. The metallic voice was deep and rolling, much like Draco's, but far harder than he ever spoke to her.</p>
<p>Hermione looked for an intercom or the glimmer of a charm telling her where the voice had come from, but all she could see was the iron bars and the heavy square of the lock. "I'm here to see Draco."</p>
<p>"No visitors. Leave."</p>
<p>She narrowed her eyes. "I want to talk to Draco."</p>
<p>"Leave."</p>
<p>She huffed and held up her left hand, turning her palm to face herself so the greyhound ring was aimed at the lock. "I'm not leaving." She looked at the house, addressing it instead of the gate. "Draco, it's me. I want to—I need to see you."</p>
<p>The gate fell silent. She grabbed one of the bars, shaking it, but it didn't budge. She shook it harder, swearing under her breath. Another scream rang from the grounds, abruptly cut off.</p>
<p>Hermione shook the gate one more time and fell back from it, panting. "Let me in," she said, jamming her hands on her hips. "I want to talk to—"</p>
<p>Behind the gate, the fog swirled. A black shape moved in it.</p>
<p>Hermione took a step back, her hand going to her throat. The shape moved closer with soft crunches of gravel. When the fog cleared, Draco stood on the opposite side of the gate in a long black cloak, the raised hood leaving his face in shadow.</p>
<p>"Hermione." His deep voice was rough and croaking. It sounded as if he'd been talking for hours without rest. "You shouldn't be here."</p>
<p>She stepped up to the gate, both hands on the bars, her face close to one of the gaps. "I was worried about you."</p>
<p>"I'm fine. Everything's—I have everything in hand. You didn't—" He sighed, shaking his head. "Go home."</p>
<p>"When are you going to learn that telling me to go home doesn't work?" She tightened her fingers around the cold iron bars, staring up at his face. There were deep lines bracketing his mouth and dark circles under his eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept since Monday. "Draco, what's wrong?"</p>
<p>"It doesn't matter. There's nothing you can do about it." He rubbed his brows, the back of his hand reddened with welts and scratches. Pushing his hood back, he ran his fingers through his disheveled hair. "Go home."</p>
<p>"Talk to me," she said. She reached through the bars, stretching her fingers toward him. "Draco. Talk to me."</p>
<p>Her voice tightened and she felt her eyes stinging. "Maybe I can't do anything but that doesn't mean telling me won't help. I'm worried about you. I haven't talked to you in days, you canceled our date, Harry says if I want to know <em>anything</em> about what's going on I'll have to ask you. Something's wrong, Draco."</p>
<p>She shut her eyes, feeling tears squeeze out and down her cheeks. "Please. I know it's your mother, I know something's going on with her, but I don't know what it is and I don't understand why you won't trust me enough to let me help you."</p>
<p>"I trust you," he said. "This has nothing to do with trust."</p>
<p>"Then why won't you let me be involved? I thought we were—I thought I meant more to you than that. You're treating me like a stranger, not as your—your partner. Your lover." She let her hand fall to her side and took several steps back from the gate. Her voice dropped until she could hardly hear herself. "It hurts that you won't let me help."</p>
<p>He was silent for several long beats, then: "Open."</p>
<p>The lock clunked and one side of the gate creaked open, leaving a space big enough for one person. Draco stepped through.</p>
<p>Hermione flung herself at him, face buried in the heavy wool of his cloak, arms tight around his waist beneath it, hands clutching at his back.</p>
<p>He took the sides of his cloak and pulled them forward, wrapping it around her and bundling her close to him. One hand on the back of her neck, he held her while she cried. His fingers were warm as they moved gently on her nape. </p>
<p>"You're right," he said once her tears had slowed. "It's my mother. She's—I have it handled. There's nothing you can do."</p>
<p>"I can be here for <em>you</em>," she said, wiping her cheeks with the edge of his cloak. "Draco, you're important to me. I care about you. If something's wrong, I want to know. Even if there's nothing I can do." She tipped her head back, looking up at the underside of his jaw and a long, jagged scratch on his throat. "You don't have to handle this alone."</p>
<p>He lowered his head, looking directly into her eyes. There was exhaustion clear in his face, an exhaustion he wasn't even making an attempt to hide. "Hermione, I—" Another muffled peacock scream rolled through the fog. Draco shuddered, his eyes slamming shut. His fingers went cold on her skin.  "I can't," he said. "I wish I could."</p>
<p>"Please." She reached up, resting the tips of her fingers on his nape. "Talk to me, Draco."</p>
<p>He opened his eyes. The exhaustion in them had shifted to pain, the same agonized look he'd had the night after his inquiry. He leaned down and touched his forehead to hers, then brushed a kiss to her lips that was over before she felt it. "I want to talk to you. But I can't. Not—not now. Not today. Go home."</p>
<p>"Why?" She kept one hand on his nape and set the other on his face, cradling his cheek as she looked into his eyes. "I want to be here for you; I want to help you. You told me before that you weren't going to let go of me. I can't believe that the man who'd say that to me is the same man who's trying to send me away now."</p>
<p>"I also said I'd protect you. That's what I'm trying to do."</p>
<p>"Protect me." She glanced past his arm at the Manor at the end of the hedge-lined lane, then back up to his face. Clues started to fit together in her mind: his refusal to talk about Narcissa, the transcripts she'd read that week, the fact that Narcissa hadn't been seen in public for years. Private Healers coming to the Manor and the way he dropped everything when Narcissa needed him. "From your mother? Draco, <em>why</em>? What's wrong with her that I need protecting?"</p>
<p>He shuddered and his eyes flickered. Under her fingers, the muscles in the back of his neck went taut. Hermione pressed down, rubbing as hard as she could from that angle, ignoring the ache in her arms as she stretched. </p>
<p>He swallowed so hard she could hear it. "You don't understand."</p>
<p>"And I won't. Not if you keep trying to hide this from me. You're not protecting me, Draco, you're pushing me away. Don't do that. I told you, and I'll keep telling you until you believe me. I'm here. I'm here for you. Whatever is going on, you don't have to be alone."</p>
<p>Head bowed, he watched her face. She saw his pupils dilate and contract, as if he were fighting with his own mind and memories. His fingers were still cold against her neck but she didn't care. He hadn't let go of her. He hadn't stepped away and left her outside the gate to go back to the house, to exhaustion and pain and scratches on his hand and throat.</p>
<p>Hermione stroked his neck beneath the scraped skin. "Do you really, truly, want me to leave?"</p>
<p> "No," he whispered. "I can't do this anymore. Not— Fuck. Yes, I want you to go and—" His voice caught and he bent far enough to set his head on her shoulder. He shook, turning his head to burrow his face into her hair, his lips moving against her neck. "But I need you to stay."</p>
<p>Hermione threaded her fingers into his hair, her heart aching at the hoarse sound of his voice. "I'll go," she murmured to him. "Just for a bit. Just long enough to get a few things. I'm coming back, Draco. I'm going to be here for you. You're not going to be alone tonight."</p>
<p>Draco straightened after a moment, his face pale and resigned. He took her hand and pressed it to the lock of the gate, his cold fingers covering hers. "Portus," he said. "Draco Lucius, heir apparent Malfoy. Acknowledge."</p>
<p>His signet ring began to glow and the gate responded in its metallic voice. "Acknowledged."</p>
<p>"Hermione Granger has access to the grounds and house. No escort needed." He spoke another language in a low tone. It sounded like French, but a very old form. Hermione suspected it was a passcode nearly as old as the Malfoy line itself.</p>
<p>"Accepted," the gate said. It vibrated suddenly and she yelped at a sting of pain.</p>
<p>Draco took her hand away from the gate, turned her palm up, and wiped a drop of blood off the heel of her thumb.  "Touch the lock," he said. "And it will let you in."</p>
<p>She nodded. "I won't be long."</p>
<p>He glanced over his shoulder at the house, then back to her. Cupping her cheek, he stroked his thumb over her lips, his fingers shaking against her jaw. His ice-pale eyes flickered as if he were about to speak, then he bent down and kissed her instead. His lips were chilled against her mouth.</p>
<p>He straightened and stepped backwards through the gate. It swung shut in front of him as he pulled his hood up over his head. "You should stay away," he said quietly. "But if you come back, I'll be waiting."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Tags have updated!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione stood outside the gate, staring down the long drive at the house. The front was dark, no lights showing at all, and the door was invisible through the fog. She scraped her teeth across her bottom lip, took a deep breath, and put her hand on the lock.</p><p>The iron gate creaked open to let her through and she made her way through the fog up the gravel lane. A ghostly white shape moved on top of one of the tall hedges, freezing her in her tracks until she realized it was a peacock staring down at her. It lifted its head and let out a raucous screech, nothing like the muffled screams she'd heard before. </p><p>Hermione shuddered, holding the strap of her bag tight in both fists, and hurried up the lane. The front of the house emerged from the fog. Draco was in shadows to one side of the door, still in his black cloak. As she approached, she saw his hand lift to his face, saw the bright orange glow of a cigarette. He flicked the cigarette to the side, where it vanished in mid-air, before exhaling two long twin streams of smoke through his nose.</p><p>His shoulders were slumped, his head bowed, as if there was a weight on him that he was losing the strength to bear. Hermione thought of how he'd trembled when he held her outside the gate. Whatever he'd been doing for the past few days, it had worn him out.</p><p>She reached out, putting her hand on his arm. "Draco, what—"</p><p>"You need to be quiet," he said. He wrapped his arm around her and tugged her close, his cloak falling over her. "I need you to understand that first and foremost. Keep your voice down. I sedated her after you left but I <em>cannot</em> risk having you wake her."</p><p>Hermione furrowed her brows. Sedated her. Two simple words, and they made her heart race. "Your mother," she murmured. "What's going on, Draco?"</p><p>"I'll tell you. I promise, I'll tell you." His voice sounded dispirited, like he'd lost some kind of battle and was waiting for the final defeat. When he took her hand and brought it up to kiss her knuckles, his mouth was nearly as cold as his fingers. </p><p>Without speaking further, he led her into the house, where he put his cloak on a hook by the door. Hermione clung to his hand as he took her through the dim entrance hall. They passed a door that felt frighteningly familiar to her and she shied away from it unconsciously. Draco glanced down at her as she pressed closer to his arm, but only squeezed her hand. </p><p>He took her to a study at the rear of the house and closed the door behind them. Dark green paper covered the walls; dark, overstuffed chairs flanked an extra-long leather sofa and a wide fireplace with logs burning atop tall, spiked andirons. A crumpled blanket was in one corner of the sofa, with several abandoned coffee cups and a nearly-empty bottle of whiskey on a small table at one side. On the low table in front of the sofa was a full ashtray, the silver case for Draco's cigarettes, and scattered files and books. A glance at the titles told her they were medical texts. James and Hebb, Molaison, Ebbinghaus. All the books were on the mind and memory.</p><p>Draco took her bag and set it on a desk in front of a leather wing chair. He leaned heavily on the desk, both hands flat on the polished surface. "Sit," he said. </p><p>Hermione looked at the end of the sofa where Draco had obviously been spending his time. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of the full ashtray. Draco's smoking didn't bother her, but from the looks of it, he'd hardly paused between one and the next. She dumped the ashtray's contents into the fireplace as Draco pushed away from the desk and came to join her.</p><p>Draco lit a fresh cigarette with a snap of his fingers, poured the remainder of the whiskey into a squat glass, and stood with his back to her, staring into the fire.</p><p>Hermione watched him for a few moments, her chest aching at the slump in his shoulders. She'd pushed him hard at the gate, insisting that he let her in and talk to her despite his obvious reluctance. Now, she wanted to go to him, to wrap him in her arms and tell him that everything would be fine, that there was nothing to worry about. But that was patently false, and she knew it. She could see it in every line of his body, in the droop of his head and the curve of his spine. Even the smoke he exhaled looked tired, floating into the fireplace in elongated, loose curls.</p><p>He finished smoking, flicked the end into the fire, and finished off the whiskey in three long swallows. "I don't know how to put any of this into a logical order," he said in a low voice as he sat beside her. "It's all going to be jumbled and confusing. But I want—I need you to let me get through it. It's going to hurt, but if I don't do this now, I never will. I just want you to remember that you pushed for it. I wanted to shield you from all of this."</p><p>Hermione nodded. "I know you don't like to—that it unsettles you to be vulnerable. To let anyone see beyond your tactics and walls. You don't want to be hurt."</p><p>He gave a sharp, bitter laugh. "You're asking me to tell you things even Pansy doesn't know. Do you understand that?"</p><p>"I do. And I know you're afraid to talk. But I won't hurt you. You <em>need</em> to talk about this, to let me in."  She twisted toward him, resting her hand over his heart. She could feel it beating fast, a rapid thrum that belied his calm expression. His pupils were contracted, tight black dots in the grey. The muscles around his eyes were tense and the lines bracketing his mouth had deepened. He was blocking again, those protective walls put into place in his mind. </p><p>Without hesitating, she moved to straddle his thighs, arms over his shoulders and fingers on his nape, pressing down. She rested her head against his neck, lips touching the runes of his prisoner identification tattoo. He smelled of smoke and whiskey, of days without sleep or shower. "You're safe with me, Draco. I can handle anything you tell me. Even if it hurts, it can't hurt more than being kept in the dark. I won't go anywhere, no matter what you say."</p><p>Draco drummed his fingers on the arm of the sofa. He was quiet for a long while, his expression still and distant, then he gave a soft sigh. "I don't know what you remember about the day you were here. During the war. When you were tortured."</p><p>Hermione closed her eyes but didn't speak. She was afraid to tell him what she remembered, in case it stopped him before he'd even begun, but she remembered enough. The pain, the screaming, Bella's curses ripping through her. </p><p>And the image of Draco, flinching with every sound she made. She remembered seeing his eyes reflecting her agony before his mother touched his arm and his face shut down. </p><p>"Mum knew who you were," Draco said. "And so did I. We couldn't prove that it was Potter with you, not with whatever jinx or hex it was you had on him. But we knew it was you. And then you escaped and it was too late. The Dark Lord had already been called. He was on his way. It was too late." His voice caught, almost trapping the words in his throat. </p><p>"He was angry," Draco continued after a cough. "We weren't supposed to disturb him for anything less than Harry Potter, captured and ready for him, and then he got here and you were gone. And he—He was so. <em>Fucking</em>. Angry."</p><p>He slammed his fist on the arm of the sofa, hard enough to send a tremor through the frame. "He punished us for it. For wasting time identifying you, for letting you go, for calling him without managing to keep Potter. For failure. Bella got off light, because she was his favorite, and Father could barely feel anything anyway, drunk as he was. But I—"</p><p>Swallowing hard, he took a deep and shaky breath. "I could have confessed straight away who you were. Potter and Weasley and Gr—and the girl who was always with them. I went to school with you, I saw you every day. I knew and I could have said without hesitation. Out of all of us, I was the one that had seen you most often and I was the only one who could identify you without question. And I didn't. I didn't and you all got away. The Dark Lord said I'd failed him. Again."</p><p>Hermione watched Draco's face lose any color it had, his skin going pure white. The dark circles under his eyes stood in stark contrast, turning his face to a skull.</p><p>"He was outraged. Furious. The true definition of <em>wrath</em>. He drew his wand and—because I'd failed him. Time after time, over and over, I'd failed him. It took me too long to get the Death Eaters into the castle. I couldn't kill Dumbledore. I had to torture Rowle after <em>he</em> let you three get away and I couldn't do that properly, not at first, I had to get it myself before I could do it right. And then I knew we had you, I knew we had Potter in our hands and I failed my master again. He blamed me for letting you escape."</p><p>His heart was thrumming so fast she could see it fluttering in his neck beneath the long, reddened scratch. His voice tightened like his throat was closing up, and he was cold, the chill of his body soaking through her clothes.</p><p>She did the one thing she could, holding him tight against the tremors she could feel running through him, her fingers digging hard into the muscles at his nape. Every word he spoke made her heart hurt, her chest aching as she reminded herself to stay calm, to give him the space he needed to feel safe.</p><p>"He wanted to make an example of me. I was the youngest, the most inexperienced, and—and. And the most expendable. If I died, he wouldn't care. The Cruciatus, it— I lost count. I don't know how many he—I didn't know her, my Lord. Was it the girl, <em>was it the girl</em>, he kept asking me. I knew he'd kill me if I told him I'd lied. I was too afraid to tell the truth, too much of a coward to face him, so I had to keep saying it. I crawled to him, I hit my knees and I pleaded with him. I didn't know her, I don't—I don't. My Lord, no. <em>No</em>."</p><p>It was the same thing he'd said to her after his inquiry. He'd been hallucinating, lost in his memories, and he'd made the same terrified pleading to his master. Hermione burrowed as close as she dared, listening to him recount how he'd begged for his life.</p><p>"And I was on the floor, and there was blood. So, so much. I screamed until my throat shredded, blood pouring over my teeth, and I was choking on it, seizing—and then Mum, she. Mum threw herself in front of the next Cruciatus. It was her, my Lord, it was. It was the girl. She took the next one for me and she took all the rest of them, and she shrieked your name with every curse. "</p><p>Hermione couldn't stop her soft gasp. She knew the pain of the Cruciatus and Bellatrix's tortures had been horrible enough. How much agony had Voldemort inflicted on Draco and Narcissa in his anger?  With his perfect memory, he could never forget how much it had hurt, and she'd demanded that he tell her this. </p><p>Lifting her head, she touched shaking fingers to his cheek. She followed the faint line of a scar up into his hairline, one of several she knew the crashing chandelier had left on his face. "Draco, no. Oh god, I'm so sorry." Whether she was apologizing for the insistence that had forced him to recall that long-ago pain or for the pain itself, she didn't know, but she apologized regardless. "I'm sorry, Draco."</p><p>"He broke something in her," Draco whispered. "She took the torture that was meant for me and something went wrong in her mind. She'll drift into her memories and she'll get ... stuck. It wasn't bad at first. She could get herself out most of the time, and the family solicitor managed to hire Marie after I went to Azkaban. It was safe enough, as long as she didn't leave the Manor. But over time, it's progressed. It's much worse these days."</p><p>The muscles around his eyes tightened, fine lines appearing at the corners. "Now I've spent years doing everything I can to keep certain things away from her. Words, phrases. She'll go back to my sixth year if I say 'assignment' or 'cabinet', and she'll start asking me if I've managed to find a way to let the others in yet, if I've found a way to assassinate Dumbledore. If it's 'ceremony' or 'mark', she'll panic and start tearing up the grounds looking for me, trying to stop the initiation rite."</p><p>He opened his eyes and looked at Hermione. "And if she hears your name, she goes back to that day and she screams and screams and she tries to put it right and—and she can't. No matter what she does, she can't stop my master from torturing me. She hears your name, and she sees me bleeding on the floor. She tries to find you in the house so she can turn you over to the Dark Lord and he'll stop hurting me."</p><p>Hermione felt the pieces of the puzzle snap into place. In the transcripts she'd read that week, Narcissa's interviews and testimonies, she'd started almost all of them calmly, sometimes coldly. But the descriptions of how she'd changed, how she'd become hysterical and even violent? Those descriptions always came <em>after</em> a question. </p><p>Hermione didn't have Draco's memory and wasn't able to recall everything she'd read, not without intense study and review, but now that she thought about it, she realized her name had come up in at least half of the questions before Narcissa snapped into wild raving. She knew if she looked at the transcripts again, she'd see the words he'd mentioned. </p><p>"Does she—" Hermione couldn't think of how to phrase it. She couldn't imagine how Draco could avoid telling Narcissa that he was seeing someone, not when he'd spent more nights away from the Manor in the previous couple of months than she suspected he had in years, but she also couldn't imagine how he would have admitted to the truth, not if he had to avoid her name entirely.</p><p>"She knows," he said, saving her from attempting the question. "She knows I'm with you. That we're involved. I don't say your name, I don't let her see any of the photos of us. There hasn't been a paper or magazine in this house since February that I haven't scrutinized for mentions of us and I got rid of the wireless weeks ago. Mum wishes she could—she's trying. She's been working on herself, practicing." Draco moved beneath Hermione, his hands sliding up her sides to cradle her shoulder blades. </p><p>He pulled her to him and kissed her, his cold lips moving across her mouth, traveling over her cheek and down to her throat. He stopped there, taking a long breath of her perfume, then lifted his head to nuzzle into her hair, inhaling slowly. "She's trying," he muttered. "And that's where everything is going wrong."</p><p>His voice shook and he held her tighter, whispering into her curls. "The weekend we were at the club. She took the opportunity to—to make the effort. To try saying your name. She made herself ill with it. She—" </p><p>He exhaled with a soft sound, too quiet to be a sob. "She's losing weight, she can hardly sleep. Her potions barely work any more. To let her get any rest I have to give her a soporific cordial—yes," he said at Hermione's startled jerk. "Yes. That's what I meant when I said I sedated her after you left. I drugged my own mother so I could talk to you. Makes me a bastard, maybe, but I didn't know what else—"</p><p>Draco shuddered, cutting his own words off. "And that <em>fucking</em> Healer. Exposure, he said, overload her and she'd stop reacting, and I told him no. She waited until I left the room and she ordered him to do it regardless of what I said and—and things went very bad."</p><p>Hermione tipped her head back, staring at the ceiling with a mounting disquiet as she thought of the screams she'd heard outside, the ones she'd first ascribed to the peacocks roaming the Manor grounds. </p><p>"She attacked her nurse, Marie," Draco said. "She attacked the Healer."</p><p>Hermione brushed her thumb down Draco's neck, following the reddened line. It didn't take much work for her to imagine a sharp fingernail dragging across his throat. "She attacked you."</p><p>He nodded. "I've emptied the house. Got rid of the Healer, gave the staff holiday, sent Marie to hospital and told her not to come back when she was cleared. I'm the only one here or I have been, at least. Me, and Mum."</p><p>Draco looked at her, his eyes full of exhaustion and worry, the grey as heavy as storm clouds. "I haven't slept in days. I go to my room and I try to so much as sit on the bed and I'm up again, having to check on her. Listening for a scream or a thud or something even worse."</p><p>Hermione stroked the back of his neck. "I'm here," she said. She kissed his forehead, her lips resting between his brows. "You could rest. You don't have to listen if I listen for you. I'll stay right here with you. Sleep, Draco. I'll listen."</p><p>He gave the slightest movement, shaking his head without pulling away from her mouth. "I can't. Can't ask you to do that."</p><p>"You're not asking. I'm offering. I meant what I said before. No matter what it is, a bad memory or a worse nightmare, I'm going to be with you. Right by your side." </p><p>"I can't—it's been so long, not letting <em>anyone</em> help, not Blaise, not Pansy." He swallowed hard enough for her to hear it and his hands tightened in the back of her jumper. His voice softened to the barest whisper. "I can't do this alone, not any longer."</p><p>She lifted her head to look into his eyes, filling her voice with all the love she didn't dare to say aloud. "You're not alone, Draco. You're with me."</p>
<hr/><p>It took more than three hours for her to convince him to rest. He'd sit for a few minutes, his head starting to droop, then shoot to his feet and go upstairs. Each time he came back, it took him longer. His stride was faltering, almost a stagger.  He was battling, but he was wearing out.</p><p>Draco finally collapsed on the long sofa with his head on her lap, stretching out for 'just a few minutes, wake me if you hear <em>anything</em> upstairs' and falling asleep before she could even agree. Hermione had curled both her hands around his cold fingers and stared into the fireplace. </p><p>She hadn't really been able to assimilate everything Draco had told her, not while he was talking, but once he was asleep, she had time to think. To make efforts to absorb it all.</p><p>She couldn't fathom the stress he was under. It sounded as if he were constantly worried, always afraid that something was going to go wrong. It explained so much. She remembered thinking that he was rich and attractive and yet had so little social life. And here was the reason. </p><p>His mother. He'd spent years taking care of her, watching over her.</p><p>Afraid for her.</p><p>Ten years since the war had ended, and she suspected he was still fighting it. He was still doing everything he could to protect his family and keep them safe. </p><p>He shouldn't have let her in the house, she knew. Not if Narcissa couldn't even handle hearing her name. It was dangerous and she'd pushed for it more than she should have, but she hadn't been able to see him in that state without wanting to help.</p><p>She <em>had</em> helped, she was sure of it. She didn't know if unburdening himself had done the trick or if it was her presence that was important, but either way, he was clearly starting to relax. A little color was coming back into his face. His fingers were starting to warm in her hand and the tight muscles around his eyes were easing. </p><p>The sun was well down and only the fire lit the room when Draco stirred in his sleep. Hermione stroked his hair, watching his face. She traced the arch of his cheekbone and the curve of his bottom lip. "You're not alone," she told him, voice soft. "You'll never be alone again. I'll always be by your side."</p><p>He tipped his head into her hand and gave a long, deep sigh before opening his eyes. He blinked at her. "Wha?"</p><p>"Sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to wake you."</p><p>"Shouldn't have let me sleep," he muttered. He rolled onto his side, his head still on her leg. "Need to get up. Check on Mum."</p><p>"I won't object," she said, running her fingers through the hair behind his ear. "You got a decent rest in."</p><p>Draco hummed and rubbed his face as he sat up. He yawned into his hands. "Check on Mum," he said again. He turned his head and kissed her, his lips warm on hers. "Don't, er. Don't leave the room."</p><p>Once he'd closed the door behind him, Hermione stood and stretched, arms high overhead before sweeping down to brush her fingers over the thick pile of the carpet. She went to one of the windows and leaned against the frame, looking over the extensive gardens behind the Manor. Off to one side was an Elizabethan knot garden and past that were several elaborate topiaries in the shapes of magical beasts. Tall trimmed hedges formed several paths leading through the gardens and she could tell that in the daylight hours, there would be a riot of color behind the house. </p><p>One section was clearly the rose garden and Hermione smiled, thinking of the roses Draco had brought her. Maybe one day they'd be able to walk through that garden together. She could picture them sitting on a marble bench beneath an arch of climbing vines, her back against Draco's chest as he read to her, both their hands resting protectively over her stomach. They'd stretch out in the grass and make love under the stars, falling asleep as tangled together as the branches of the rosebushes.</p><p>She closed her eyes. And maybe she was asking for more than he could give. </p><p>She went back to sit by the fireplace and started straightening up the pile of books, careful not to dislodge the strips of parchment Draco had used to mark pages. All the books were well-read, with cracked spines and dented covers. It was a topic he'd clearly been studying for years. His memory was astonishing and he had to know every word that was in these books, but he was reading them again, desperate to find something, <em>anything</em> that he might have missed that could help his mother.</p><p>When the door opened, the weariness had crept back into his face. He stood next to her, idly stroking her hair, twisting one of her curls around his finger. "She's asleep. Natural sleep, I mean. Can't give her another dose for at least an hour, but maybe it won't be necessary. Do you need anything?" he asked. "Drink, something to eat?"</p><p>"Roses," she said without thinking. Squeaking at herself, she shook her head. "No. I was just—I was looking at the gardens and thinking how nice they are. About taking a walk with you, but I don't suppose we can, not tonight."</p><p>"No, unfortunately." As Hermione stood, Draco slid his arm around her and bent his head to look into her eyes. "I wish you were here under different circumstances. If I could, I'd—"</p><p>His eyes flickered and he let out a soft sigh. "Not that I could," he said, half to himself. "Impossible."</p><p>"What do you mean?" she asked, reaching up to touch his cheek. "Draco, what—"</p><p>"Never mind." He cleared his throat and straightened up. "But if you want, we can go out the side door for a little while. You can see some of the grounds from there. See the woods."</p><p>She wanted to ask him to explain, but his voice had tightened in a way that unsettled her. She didn't push. "I'd like that," she said instead.</p><p>He led her out of the study and down the same corridor, past the door that made her skin crawl.</p><p>She couldn't walk away. She stopped to stare at it, barely noticing as Draco went a few steps beyond the door, then returned, but she felt his arm slide around her shoulders. </p><p>He tugged gently. "Come on, pet. You don't want to bother with that. Passage to the side door is this way."</p><p>"It's the drawing room, isn't it?" she said without taking her eyes off the closed door. "In there. The drawing room where—" She swallowed hard. "Where it happened."</p><p>He drew her in against his side, his hand settling on the back of her neck. "Yes," he murmured. "And that's why you should leave it alone."</p><p>"Do you ever go in?"</p><p>"No. I haven't been in there in years. I don't have to see it. It's—" He sighed. "I told you everything that happened. It's one of my worst memories. Why would I want to stand in that room when it's always fresh in my mind?"</p><p>"One of your worst memories." She gave a hollow laugh. "The worst day of my life and it's only <em>one</em> of your worst."</p><p>Draco was silent for a moment. "Serving the Dark Lord didn't bring the glory we were promised," he said. "It brought pain and anguish and it's destroyed all of us. Prison or death, those were our only options, once you got down to it. Do you know, when they originally considered sentencing me to ten years, I was grateful for it? Could have been life."</p><p>Hermione turned to slip both arms around him, her ear to his chest. "You gave up enough of your life to him, Draco. You're still giving up too much because of what he did to you and your family. You deserve to be happy."</p><p>His silence was even longer, then he let out a slow sigh. "When I'm with you, I am." He brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers, his eyes searching her face. He looked as though he were going to say something further, then he exhaled so sharply his entire body moved. "We should go back to the study," he said. "I need to go up and—"</p><p>He went still. </p><p>Hermione couldn't tell if his fingers had gone cold or if the temperature itself had dropped, but she shivered. Draco's hands squeezed on her shoulders, then he shoved her behind him, against the door, and took a step towards the stairs.</p><p>"My dragon," a thin, petulant voice said. "Who are you talking to?"</p><p>Hermione's eyes snapped wide open. She held her breath, willing Draco's size to prevent Narcissa from seeing her. Her skin tingled, prickling with warning, and her heartbeat pounded in her ears.</p><p>"Mum," Draco said. He took another step, both hands spread. "Go back to bed. I'll be up in a moment."</p><p>"Who are you <em>talking</em> to?"</p><p>Hermione couldn't see around Draco. She curled her hands, nails digging into her palms, and kept her breathing shallow, determined not to make any sound that would draw Narcissa's attention to her.</p><p>"Mum, don't worry about it. You need to go back upstairs. Go back to bed. I'll walk up with you." Draco took another step forward, left hand extended toward Narcissa. His right hand slipped to his side, fingers curling around the hilt of his wand.</p><p>"I heard a woman's voice. Who is it? Tell me."</p><p>Hermione watched Draco's back stiffen. "Mum," he said sharply. His fingers tightened on his wand. "Go upstairs."</p><p>"Draco Lucius Malfoy," Narcissa snapped. "You will answer me."</p><p>"Mum, <em>don't</em>—"</p><p>He took another step, and underneath his raised arm, Hermione saw a pale, gaunt face. </p><p>Narcissa's grey eyes widened. "You." She leapt forward, hands out like claws.</p><p>Draco's wand snapped up. "Hermione, run!"</p><p>Hermione scrabbled at the door behind her, hitting the latch and shoving it open with her shoulder. She tumbled into a dark room. Narrow beams of moonlight shone through the cracks in shuttered windows, joining the light from the open doorway where Draco struggled with Narcissa.</p><p>Hermione panted for air, each breath whistling in her throat, as she felt her way deeper into the room. She'd left her wand in the study with her bag, and her thoughts were swirling so fast she couldn't bring a single spell to mind. She tried desperately to cast a light-creation charm, a distraction charm, anything to help her, but the incantations kept slipping out of her grasp. </p><p>A rattling thump came from the hall, Draco swore, and the noises of struggle went silent. Hermione whipped around to face the door. The shadowy figure that filled the entrance was far too short to be Draco.</p><p>"Yes," Narcissa said, her voice cracking. "I know you. It <em>is</em> you. I remember you, from Madame Malkins. The Granger girl."</p><p>She moved into the room, bare feet silent on the floor. Each step she took was firm and deliberate, avoiding the furniture with ease, as if she knew the layout of the room perfectly. Hermione backed up and Narcissa's head whipped around, pale eyes locked on her.</p><p>Hermione retreated a few more steps, heart pounding at the wide, vicious smile twisting Narcissa's face, visible in one of the thin beams of moonlight. "No," Hermione said, stumbling into a dustcloth-covered chair. "No. I'm—" she groped for the name she'd used back then. "Clearwater. Penelope Clearwater."</p><p>"Hermione Granger," Narcissa said. She took another step, eyes gleaming. She snapped her fingers and a pair of sconces over the fireplace burst into life, their flames turning the moonlight red. Her smile turned sharp, deepening until a pair of dimples marked her cheeks. "I have you now, girl. You won't escape this time."</p><p>Behind Narcissa, Draco stepped through the door, favoring his right leg, blood spattered down the bridge of his nose. "Mum," he said. "Don't."</p><p>"We have her, Draco," Narcissa said. "We have her now. Call him!"</p><p>Draco moved up behind her, then edged to the side, circling around her with his wand held low. "No, Mum. I can't do that."</p><p>Narcissa's face twisted, thin lips stretched in a snarl. "I won't let you be hurt again, my dragon." She leapt.</p><p>Draco dropped his wand and grabbed Narcissa in one movement, snatching her around the waist, lifting her off her feet. </p><p>She struggled and clawed at his hands around her waist, dragging bloody furrows into his skin. "It's her! The Granger girl!" Narcissa shrieked. "Call him!"</p><p>She scrabbled at Draco's sleeve, ripping the cuff open, shoving it up his arm. She flailed at his Dark Mark. "Call him! We have her!"</p><p>"Mum. <em>Mum</em>. Stop." Draco tightened his grip, hissing as she raked her nails down his forearm.</p><p>"Call him!" She kicked her feet, drumming her heels into his shins. "Call him! It's the only way! The only way!"</p><p>"Mum, he's dead," Draco said, face twisted with pain. "The Dark Lord's <em>dead</em>. It won't work."</p><p>"We have her! Call him, Draco, call him now, and we'll give her to him!"</p><p>"Mum, <em>no</em>." Draco yelped as Narcissa kicked harder, driving her heel into his right knee. His leg buckled and he stumbled, his grip loosening.</p><p>Narcissa tore out of his hands with a growl and stalked toward Hermione. Her fingers curled and flexed, pointed nails flashing.</p><p>Hermione ducked away, scurrying around the chair, trying to keep it between her and Narcissa. </p><p>"Make this easy on us," Narcissa hissed. "Give up. I won't let my son be tortured, not for you."</p><p>From the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Draco picking up his wand. "Mum," he said. "Don't make me do this."</p><p>Narcissa snarled over her shoulder. She dodged around the chair.</p><p>Hermione shrieked as Narcissa grabbed the ends of her hair, yanking her head back. She hit the floor, her ankle twisting under her. </p><p>Narcissa followed her down, clutching tight, bony fingers around her neck. "Call him," she growled at Draco.</p><p>"Mum!" Draco shifted his stance and raised his wand. "Mum, please. Don't make me do this. Don't make me choose."</p><p>Hermione could see his hand shaking from across the room. Narcissa's fingers tightened, throttling her. Black spots danced in Hermione's vision from the crushing grip on her throat. Despite her frantic attempt not to make a sound, she whimpered in pain. </p><p>Draco squeezed his eyes shut, his face crumpling, then his hand steadied and his expression went blank. He opened his eyes, pupils contracted to specks in the sea of grey. He took aim.</p><p>Hermione closed her eyes and whispered. "I trust you."</p><p>Red light flared across her lids.</p>
<hr/><p>Draco sat at the side of the bed, elbows on the padded rail, one hand locked over the back of his bowed head, one wrapped around his mother's thin fingers. He smelled the jasmine before he heard Hermione's footsteps on the polished tile floor.</p><p>"How is she?" Hermione asked quietly. </p><p>He lifted his head with a sigh. "Healer says it's impossible to tell when she'll wake up. Her age, her ill health, her ... psychological state at the time. It's all going to affect how long her recovery is." Draco watched Narcissa's shallow breathing. It was the only movement she'd made since he'd bundled her through the Floo for the frantic trip to St. Mungo's.</p><p>He released Narcissa's hand, leaned back in the too-small chair, and tipped his head against Hermione's arm. "I didn't want to do it," he said. "But she was—"</p><p>"Draco, you did what needed to be done. She could have hurt herself in that state."</p><p>He gave a silent, bitter laugh. "That wasn't even in my mind. If you'd asked me a year ago, who would I protect first, my mother or literally anyone else on the planet, there would have been no question. But all I could think was—was." He shut his eyes. "Was that she was hurting <em>you</em>."</p><p>Hermione turned to put both arms around his shoulders, her fingers moving through his hair and down the back of his neck. </p><p>"We're trained in making fast decisions, analyzing the situation, determining threat levels. Quick response and risk assessment," Draco said with a snap of his fingers. "We have course after course on this. There were a dozen things I could have done but <em>you</em> were in danger. I had to make a choice and I didn't hesitate. I didn't give her a chance."</p><p>"Yes, you did," Hermione said. "You gave her the chance to stop. You held off until it was clear she wouldn't. You did what you had to do, Draco."</p><p>"It wasn't enough."</p><p>Hermione cupped his cheeks and drew his head up. "You've said that before, and I think it's just as wrong now as it was then. You keep thinking that you should have done something else, that you made the wrong decision. When are you going to believe that you made the <em>right</em> choice?"</p><p>He looked at her throat, where the bruises of his mother's grip had been wiped away by one of the Healers, before he could make himself look into her eyes.</p><p>Her dark, worried eyes, full of emotions he couldn't begin to name. For a moment, he couldn't speak, then he tugged her into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, mouth soft against hers. "When I chose you," he murmured. "Every time I've chosen you. That was the right choice."</p><p>Her eyes shimmered when she lifted her head. "Good," she whispered. "That—I needed to hear that." She looked as though she were about to say something more, then she blinked away the tears and cleared her throat. She brushed his fringe back, careful not to touch the cut across his forehead. "Is this all right? I saw the blood."</p><p>"I tripped, trying not to hurt her, and she scratched me. Head injuries always bleed heavily." He caught her hand and kissed her fingers. "I'm fine. It's just a cut. I've been hurt worse."</p><p>She hummed under her breath. "That's what you said when you crashed at the Quidditch match. And the morning after your inquiry. And when you told me about your ribs in fourth year. The attack in Morthen. Every time you said you weren't hurt or that you'd been hurt worse, I thought you were trying to put on some kind of—of. I don't know. Manly show of strength or something. But you were being honest, weren't you? You've been hurt much, much worse. I understand that now."</p><p><i>No, my Lord, please.</i> Draco shivered and slammed his mind shut against the memory of his own screams. "Right," he said after a moment. "That's what I meant. Almost everything is minor, after that."</p><p>Hermione pressed a gentle kiss to the cut, her lips holding no more weight than her breath on his skin. "Consider this your official scolding for getting injured, Draco. Requirement of being on my very special list."</p><p>He ducked his head to kiss her throat, a series of kisses trailing up her neck and along her jaw. "Likewise, Hermione. My very special list of one very special woman."</p><p>She smiled and gently eased his arms from around her, then stood and straightened her oversized jumper. "Don't think we should push this too much longer. I don't want to be here when she wakes up." She caught her breath, cheeks turning bright pink. "Oh, heavens. I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I meant—"</p><p>"I know what you meant." Draco gave her a small smile. "And I appreciate it."</p><p>"I'll be upstairs in the tea room," she said. "I'll check back in an hour, if I don't see you first." Popping a kiss on his cheek, she left quietly.</p><p>Draco turned his attention back to Narcissa, the smile instantly dropping off his face. "Mum," he said, returning to a litany he'd been repeating since the moment she'd been settled into the narrow bed. "Mum, wake up. Please wake up."</p><p>Hermione returned every hour for the next six, bringing him crisps, sandwiches, grapes, and anything else she could convince him to eat. He refused any drinks out of worry he might be in the lav when Narcissa awoke, only conceding when one of the Healers threatened to give him intravenous liquids for dehydration. </p><p>It was past dawn when Hermione brought him a thermos of coffee and a change of clothes. He'd just finished changing behind the privacy curtain when Narcissa's breathing changed with a stuttering inhale. Draco yanked the curtain aside, leaving Hermione behind it, and leaned over her bed. "Mum," he said, grabbing her hand. "Mum, wake up."</p><p>Her lips twitched. She gave a slow, pained exhale, words emerging in a near-silent groan. "The girl. Bring her here."</p><p>Draco's heart thudded. Even Narcissa's worst memory drifts ended after a night's sleep. She'd been unconscious for hours. She should have been back to herself. "Mum," he said. "Mum, no. There's no—come back, Mum."</p><p>Lashes fluttering, she wet her lips. "My dragon," she whispered. "Bring her here. Quickly." </p><p>He squeezed her hand, throwing a warning glance at the curtain and Hermione's unmoving shadow behind it. "Mum, I can't—"</p><p>"I am myself. Bring her."</p><p>Hermione peeked around the curtain and raised her brows at Draco. He shook his head without speaking.</p><p>Narcissa made a weak grunt, forehead knotting. She crooked one finger. "I know you're here. Her—Her. Here, for my son. Come here."</p><p>Draco shut his eyes in resignation as Hermione silently stepped around the curtain. She stood near the bed, out of reach, and whispered as quietly as Narcissa had spoken. "I'm here."</p><p>Narcissa's fingers tightened around Draco's hand. "Good. You're good. For Draco. Be there for each other." She took a shuddering breath and opened her eyes, but her gaze was unfocused and distant. "He made. The right choice. Her—Her. Hermione."</p><p>Her grip on his hand loosened and she sighed, chest sinking down as her eyes closed.</p><p>Draco shook her shoulder. "Mum?" He said her name, said over and over, louder and louder, refusing to look away from Narcissa's slack face and still chest.</p><p>Hermione slapped the alarm button above the bed. A klaxon sounded and the lights overhead flashed blue. </p><p>Draco clung to Narcissa's limp hand. "<em>Mum</em>!"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He hadn't bothered to send out any announcements, not even to the newspaper, and hadn't planned more than a minimal service. There were few people in the world who would care that Narcissa Malfoy was dead, and most of them were standing outside the mausoleum that was tucked into a secluded part of the estate. </p><p>Narcissa had been carried to the site in an antique caisson drawn by a tall Friesian horse. The undertakers placed her into her vault, fastened it closed, and doffed their black top hats as they left. No one spoke.</p><p>Draco stood alone inside the mausoleum, hands curled tight at his sides, his eyes locked on the marble plaque covering the freshly-sealed crypt.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <i>Narcissa Elizabeth Black Malfoy</i><br/>
<i>06 May 1955 - 19 April 2008</i><br/>
<i>Mother</i>
  </p>
</div><p>It had seemed impossible to incorporate everything about her into one plaque: her devotion, her pride, her protection. Her love. He'd looked up quotes and searched through poems, hunting for the perfect words for her epitaph. In the end, he'd been unable to think of anything that represented her more than what she'd meant to him.</p><p>
  <i>Talk to me, my dragon. Tell me about your day.</i>
</p><p>Draco closed his eyes, bowing his head. He took a deep breath, sensing marble, granite, slate, iron, and bronze, all of it cold and overlaid with the musty odor of disuse, with the smell of stale air and dried-out petals of long-forgotten flowers. His grandfather, Abraxas, had been the last person interred in the family tomb, and Draco had long assumed he or his father would be the next, not his mother. He'd never imagined a world without her.</p><p>Lips pressed tight together, he took another breath, one that had the scent of jasmine in it. Quiet footsteps crossed the stone floor, and he tucked his hands behind his back.</p><p>Hermione made a soft noise and stood with him, not speaking, not moving, until he let out a sharp breath and straightened his shoulders.</p><p>"If you're not ready," she murmured, "we can wait as long as you need."</p><p>He shook his head. "No. That won't be necessary."</p><p>She touched his arm, fingers light on his sleeve. "Draco, take all the time you want to say goodbye to your mother."</p><p>"It's been nearly a week. I've said goodbye."</p><p>"If you need–"</p><p>He shook his arm, knocking her hand away, and stepped back. "For god's sake, leave it alone. I said I'm done." Pulling his cloak around his shoulders, he strode for the narrow door and out into the open where a late snow was falling in the fading sunlight. A few moments later, Hermione slipped past him, head down, to join Harry, Pansy, and Blaise. </p><p>Draco turned away from her and shut the mausoleum door. He pressed his left palm and the band of his ring to a copper plate at his eye level, sealing the door with a whispered charm. He stood still, eyes closed, and took a slow breath before lifting his head and turning to face the others.</p><p>Marie approached him with the small handful of the Manor's staff. "Mr Malfoy," she said quietly. "Again, my deepest condolences. If you're agreeable, I'll collect what's left of my equipment next week."</p><p>"Yes," he said. "Thank you, Marie. Your service has been appreciated over the past several years. I will, of course, give you an exemplary reference should you need one."</p><p>She nodded again before heading into the orchard to follow the trail back to the house. The estate's servants each said a quick condolence to him and followed Marie in a short queue.</p><p>Draco turned to the remaining group, speaking without looking directly at them. "Mrs Soyer will have food available in the dining room if you want it. Buffet, cold sandwiches, that sort of thing. Don't feel you need to stay, however."</p><p>"I think I'll get going," Blaise said quietly. He stepped closer to Draco, lowering his voice. "I <em>can</em> stay, if you need anything."</p><p>Draco shook his head. "Go on. You've had more than your share of funerals and cold buffets, with all those step-fathers. I have everything in hand."</p><p>"You don't have to take care of it all yourself, Malfoy."</p><p>Draco forced a smile. "Yes, I do. That's my responsibility, isn't it? Keep things under control."</p><p>Blaise gave him a long look, then glanced at Hermione. "Are you sure everything <em>is</em> under control?"</p><p>"I'm <em>handling</em> it," Draco snapped.</p><p>Blaise turned back to him, eyes narrowed. "I've heard that before," he said. "Sixth year. And I didn't believe you then, either." He shook his head before moving away to hug Pansy. </p><p>She held him close, whispered into his ear, and patted his shoulder, waving as he headed into the orchard. She left Harry with Hermione, and Draco pretended not to notice the worried look in Harry's eyes as the two of them spoke, or the way Hermione swiped her hand across her cheeks. </p><p>He hid a sigh when Pansy threw her arms around his shoulders and hugged him tightly. "Darling," she mumbled to him, up on her toes to reach his ear. "I'm so sorry."</p><p>"You don't need to apologize," he said. He lifted his chin and looked past her, at the tops of the Manor's towers visible over the orchard. "It's not as though you killed her."</p><p>"Neither did–"</p><p>"Stop." He pulled her arms free and stepped away from her. "Just stop, Pansy. There's nothing to say. <em>Nothing</em> either of us can say will change what's happened."</p><p>"Draco. You don't need to put on a show. Not for us."</p><p>His throat tightened. His father's voice echoed in his head, twined with the memory of cold grey eyes and a hand crushing his shoulder, a silver signet ring in the corner of his vision, sharp fingers digging into the hollow of his collar bone.</p><p>
  <i>A Malfoy does not show weakness, boy. Never let anyone see you falter.</i>
</p><p>Draco ground his teeth and shoved the cold eyes and harsh voice to the back of his mind, pulling a barren stone wall in front of the memory. He shook out the folds of his cloak. "Are you done?" he asked blandly. "The buffet's already cold but I'd rather it didn't get any colder while we stand out here nattering."</p><p>Pansy watched him for a few seconds with her arms folded before she sighed, dropping her gaze. "I'll let you talk to me like that," she said in a low voice. "Because we've been friends since we were babies. You've pushed me away before and I know you don't mean it. But I swear to god, Draco Malfoy, if you use this as an excuse to block <em>her</em> out, if you push her away–" She sniffed, her green eyes sparkling with tears. "If you destroy your life on purpose because you think you don't deserve–No. I will never forgive you."</p><p>She spun around, rushing to join the other two. Draco watched her thread her arm through Hermione's. Both women walked away, leaving Harry to slowly trudge across the grass.</p><p>Draco tucked a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, lit it with a snap of his fingers, and blew smoke into the air. "You can skip it," he said before Harry could speak. "Take some time off, compassionate leave, on behalf of the department, et cetera. Don't bother. Couple of days to finish off the paperwork, sort through her belongings and store what's valuable and donate the rest. I'll be back to work Monday. I've let Cotterill and Choudhury take on most of the casework as it is. They're trainees; they shouldn't be carrying so much."</p><p>He braced himself for an argument, even a lecture, but Harry didn't speak. Draco exhaled smoke and watched him warily through the pale cloud of it.</p><p>Harry hooked his thumbs in his coat pockets and rocked back on his heels, looking up at the sky. He caught a snowflake on his tongue. "You lied to me about the mausoleum," he said after a minute. </p><p>"Pardon?"</p><p>"Thirty feet tall, you said. Angels, stained glass. That thing's ten feet tall at best and I don't see a single angel and only one stained glass window. I also note a distinct lack of guard peacocks. Not objecting to that, I'll admit. They give me the creeps."</p><p>"You're telling me." Draco looked sideways at Harry, who was busy attempting to catch another snowflake and looking for all the world as if he hadn't noticed Pansy and Hermione stopping at the edge of the orchard to stare back at them. "This is what we're doing, then?" Draco said, blowing a smoke ring. "Normal day, normal chat?"</p><p>"Decided I wasn't going to call you an absolute twat for how you've treated Hermione today, but if the witty banter isn't doing it for you, that's your call. You've been a dick since we arrived." Draco stiffened and Harry narrowed his eyes, a few snowflakes melting on his round glasses. "And don't tell me nothing's going on because it's bollocks and you know it."</p><p>"I've had a lot on my mind. In case you failed to notice, this was my mother's funeral."</p><p>"Is that what this was? Interesting. See, I reckoned that a man who was grieving his mum's death might <em>want</em> the support of his girlfriend, but not you. No, you'd rather pretend she doesn't exist, barely even acknowledge her." </p><p>"I didn't ask any of you to come. I told her specifically that she didn't need to be here."</p><p>"Right. Bet that sounded a lot like 'Don't show up to the funeral, Hermione, I don't want you around,' didn't it? She thinks you blame her for what happened. That you think it's <em>her</em> fault Narcissa died."</p><p>
  <i>Hermione on the floor, Narcissa behind her, fingers tight on her throat, choking her. Call him, call him. He's raising his wand, a lump in his throat. Don't make me do this.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Don't make me choose.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Her brown eyes, flecked with gold, meeting his. Absolute trust in her face. Firing the spell, twin thumps of bodies falling over the decade-old bloodstain on the floor.</i>
</p><p>Draco kept rigid control over his face and posture, refusing to react. He took a long drag off his cigarette, exhaled through his nose, and locked eyes with Harry. "This is none of your business."</p><p>"It is one hundred percent my business. Because you're my friend, she's my <em>best</em> friend, and I'm not going to stand around and watch things go to shit between you. Not like this." He let out a sharp breath and lowered his voice. "You as good as admitted to me that you're in love with her. I can't believe this is how you would treat her. I can't believe this is how Narcissa would want you to treat her."</p><p>Draco drew himself up to his full height, his hand clenched at his side. "How dare you–"</p><p>He cut himself off with a snarl and dropped his cigarette on the ground, crushing it out with his heel. "Get the fuck away from me right now, Potter," he growled. "Before I say something we both will regret."</p><p>Harry shook his head. "No. You're the only one who's going to end up regretting anything said today." He eyed Draco for a moment, shook his head again, and walked away.</p><p>Draco watched Harry join the two women at the edge of the orchard. They were far enough away that he couldn't hear them, but he could see Hermione's face crumple. Pansy pulled Hermione into her arms, and Harry held them both.</p><p>Draco ground his teeth. He glanced over his shoulder at the sealed mausoleum, at the words carved into the lintel. <i>Sanctimonia vincit semper</i>. Beneath that ancient motto, some unknown ancestor of his had added another line. <i>Sed amor vincit omnia</i>.</p><p>He gave one more look to the door of the mausoleum. It held centuries of pure blood, but very little love. For a moment he wondered where the ancestral line would be if they'd let love win more often. Would he be the last one, the last Malfoy, if they had? </p><p>He turned to walk through the gentle swirls of snow and across the damp grass to meet the other three at the orchard. Harry and Pansy both took a step back from Hermione to look at Draco. Harry watched him stiffly; Pansy watched him worriedly.</p><p>Hermione didn't look at him at all.</p><p>Draco hesitated in mid-step. He took a deep breath. Blaise's stiff reproach, Pansy's choked worry, Harry's stern glare. All of his friends, three of the four people he trusted with his entire soul, had felt it necessary to say something to him about his behavior toward Hermione.</p><p>He knew they were right. He hadn't treated her well that day, and she didn't deserve it.</p><p>He took a step closer, pushed his cloak back, and cautiously brushed Hermione's arm with the backs of his fingers. </p><p>She startled, her head snapping up to stare at him. </p><p>Draco stood still next to her, his hand loose at his side, and watched her through lowered lashes. He waited, holding his breath, as she brushed melted snow off her cheeks.</p><p>After a moment, Hermione gave a quiet sniff, then slipped her small hand into his grip.</p><p>He folded his fingers around hers, letting his breath out as silently as he could when he felt her squeeze his hand.</p><p>Flicking a glance at Pansy, Draco raised his brows. She nodded and put her arm around Harry's waist to walk into the orchard on the path back to the house. When they'd moved into the trees, Draco looked down at Hermione. He brushed a few snowflakes out of her curls and cast a warming charm over his cloak, then set it over her shoulders.</p><p>She met his eyes. "Are we–is everything– Are you all right?" she said in a small voice.</p><p>Draco pulled his cloak closed around her, hand spread across her back. He ducked his head to kiss the top of her hair, his heart drumming when she flung both arms around him and held on tight. "Yes," he said, answering the first question she'd abandoned. "We're all right. We're fine."</p><p>She made a tiny, choked sound that made his breath catch. "I didn't think we were," she said. She squeezed him harder, her head rocking against his chest. "You didn't want me to come today and I thought you blamed me for her death and that you were going to break up with me and–"</p><p>"I don't blame you." Draco closed his eyes and took a moment to steady his breathing. "I <em>don't</em> blame you, Hermione. It wasn't your fault. My mother had been ill for years and it had been the worst I'd ever seen it that whole week. In her mind she was trying to protect me. The only thing she knew was that if you escaped, I'd be hurt. She was trying to stop that."</p><p>He cupped her cheeks, turning her face up to look into her eyes. "We couldn't talk much about you because of her traumas. But she tried. She tried because she knew it was important. She knew you were important to me. Her illness caused the trouble, not her, and <em>not</em> you. My mother's last action was to give us her approval. Her last word was your name. How could I blame you for anything when she was trying so hard to accept you?" </p><p>"You don't blame me. You obviously don't blame her." Hermione went up on her toes, one hand sliding up to rest on his shoulder, her fingers brushing the side of his neck. She knotted her brows and searched his face. "You let me in to the Manor. You said my name. Do you blame yourself?"</p><p>Walls appeared in his mind before he'd realized he'd built them. Solid stone walls covered in thick iron slammed into place with the reverberating clang of a prison door. Draco looked over her head, his hands falling to his sides. "No."</p><p>After a few moments, Hermione stroked his nape gently. "Your pupils contract when you're using Occlumency," she said. "And your hands get cold. Not as cold as when you're locked in a memory, but still cold. The muscles around your eyes tighten up. I can tell when you're doing it, and I know why. You use Occlumency with me when you're lying." </p><p>She pushed his cloak from around her shoulders and moved back a step. "I should go. I should let you–This is what you do. You hide everything and you insist you're in control. You lie about what you're feeling and you pretend that you're not being ripped to shreds inside because as long as people see what you want them to see, they'll never know the truth. It's a tactic." She stepped back again, wiping her cheek. "It's a mask. You're still wearing your mask, Draco."</p><p>The words hit him like a curse. His chest ached, a knot of pain beneath his sternum. For a moment, he could feel the weight of it on his face, the solid plane over his mouth that kept him silent. He fought off the memory of the cold metal on his cheeks, of his own panicked breaths echoing inside the steel, of being grateful – <em>grateful</em> – for the mask that let him hide the terror in his expression as he watched the horrors around him. </p><p>Draco bowed his head. "Hermione, wait. <em>Wait</em>." He stretched his hand out to her. He was tempted to close his hand into a fist to keep her from noticing the shake in his fingers, and he ordered himself to let her see. "I don't–I can't–"</p><p>She stopped moving and looked up at him without brushing the next tear off her face. "If I stay, will you be honest with me? Will you be honest with yourself?"</p><p>He kept his eyes on the few remaining snowflakes as they drifted to earth. His throat felt thick and heavy, the words stuck in it. "I want to," he said after too long of a pause.</p><p>Hermione watched him silently, then took a breath and came back to him, reaching up to put her hands on his shoulders. He bent to her and she kissed him, her mouth soft against his. "Good days and bad days and all the days in between," she said. "I want to be with you. I told you, the only way you'll get rid of me is to chase me off. And every time you close up and put up your walls, even if you don't mean to do it, even though I know you don't <em>want</em> to do it, it feels like you're trying very hard to chase me away." </p><p>Her voice quivered. "I know what's under your mask," she whispered. "You can take it off. You can let go. I won't hurt you for it."</p><p>It took everything he had not to jerk away from her. His hands locked on her waist and he rested his forehead against hers. Each breath racked through him and he closed his eyes, fighting to keep steady. "I want to," he said again. "I can't. Not–not now. Not today."</p><p>She kissed him again. "I understand. And I won't force you. I'll ask and I'll ask but I'll always give you the choice. But you know the truth. That mask has to come off and your walls have to come down." </p><p>Draco straightened. "I know." He took Hermione's hand and brought it up to press his lips to her knuckles. "I'll work on it. Because the last thing I want to do is push you away, Hermione. I've just barely found you. I can't lose you. I <em>won't</em> lose you."</p><p>She looked up at him, her eyes shining as she gave him a tentative smile. "That's progress."</p><p>He put his arm around her shoulders and walked into the orchard with her, heading back to the Manor.</p>
<hr/><p>The next day was the slowest she'd had in her life. No Friday had ever taken so long. Every time she thought another hour had passed, she'd look at her watch and see it had been less than fifteen minutes. Time dragged until noon, when she had a half-day off secured. Draco had asked Pansy to spend the afternoon at the Manor, going through Narcissa's room, while he finished the last of the paperwork and dispatched the items she had willed outside the family, including things for Blaise, Pansy, and a few other people. Pansy had quickly asked and received his approval to have Hermione come and assist.</p><p>Striga had delivered a note and a black-tipped red rose to Hermione that morning. In addition to appreciating her help, Draco wanted her to spend the night. What made her heart race the most was the small, shaky note he'd added beneath his initials.</p><p>
  <i>I <span class="u">want</span> to talk to you.</i>
</p><p>She finished her duties, locked her desk, and rushed home to change, pack, and eat before going into the garden and Apparating.</p><p>She landed outside the gates of Malfoy Manor, where Pansy was waiting for her. "I'm still not sure if I should be involved," Hermione said, as Pansy nodded a greeting to her. "I barely knew her. I couldn't be any help with–with. With deciding what's important or valuable. Shouldn't he have an appraiser to handle this?"</p><p>"The appraiser's come and gone," Pansy said, linking her arm through Hermione's. She touched the gate. It swung open and Pansy tugged Hermione up the long gravel lane. "That's all family property. Most of that's already in the vault in any case. We're here to go through Narcissa's personal effects. The more intimate items that Draco wouldn't let a stranger touch."</p><p>"I'm a stranger," Hermione muttered as they neared the house. "To her, at least. Can't imagine she'd have wanted <em>me</em> going through her things."</p><p>Pansy stopped in front of the door and let out a sigh. "All right, fine. You're not here for that. You're here to talk to me while I sort it all out because I've known her since I was little, she's–she <em>was</em> practically a second mother to me, and it will take twice as long to go through her room if I keep stopping to have a little cry. You're my distraction, Granger."</p><p>A tear sparkled in the corner of Pansy's eye. Without hesitating, Hermione yanked her into a hug. "Okay," she said as Pansy sniffled. "Okay, I understand. That makes sense. That's all the reason I need."</p><p>Pansy wiped the ball of her thumb under her eye. "Good. Glad that's cleared up." </p><p>They went into the house and straight to the first floor where a tall woman in a severe black dress met them at the top of the stairs. "Miss Parkinson," the woman said, her accent hinting at a Slavic upbringing. "Glad you are here. And Miss Granger, welcome."</p><p>"Mrs Derieva," Pansy said to Hermione. "The housekeeper." She held her hand out and accepted a set of small keys from Mrs Derieva, then went down the corridor to a door at the far end.</p><p>"Your bag, Miss Granger," Mrs Derieva said. "I'll see that it's put in Mr Malfoy's room."</p><p>Hermione felt a warm flush in her cheeks but gave up the bag without pretense. Acting as though she'd expected a guest room seemed rather silly. She hurried down the hall after Pansy, looking over her shoulder to see the housekeeper watching her. </p><p>Mrs Derieva gave her a small smile and a nod before going the opposite direction, one finger dragged along the frame of a painting and scrutinized for hints of dust.</p><p>Hermione caught up with Pansy and cleared her throat. "I wondered," she said, keeping her voice soft. "Mrs Soyer? Mrs Derieva? The other people at the funeral?"</p><p>Pansy stopped with her hand on the brass doorknob. "What about them?"</p><p>"They were ... <em>people</em>."</p><p>"Yes? What did you expect, unicorns?"</p><p>Hermione made a face. "House-elves, thank you. Not that I'd want to see any around, but I would expect them. In this sort of house. Dobby, um." She took a deep breath, centering herself, and tried not to think of a tiny headstone over an elf-sized grave. "Dobby died, I know, but I thought they might have acquired another one."</p><p>"No," Pansy said. "Not since the war ended. They're not allowed. All the servants are human. Mrs Soyer runs the kitchen, Mrs Derieva keeps up the house, and Mr Harrison and Mr Beales take care of the grounds. Draco pays very well." She pushed the door open.</p><p>Narcissa's bedroom was bright, full of soft gold and cream furnishings. The accents of color around the room were all in shades of pale pink and purple, and it put Hermione in mind of a sunrise. Everything, from the lines of the furniture to the frames of the photographs collected on the dressing table, spoke of elegance and grace. The only discordant notes to the room were the table full of potion bottles and the medical equipment neatly organized along a side wall.</p><p>Hermione turned to shut the door. </p><p>"No!" Pansy yelped, jumping to grab the knob. She pulled the door open fully, kicking a brass stopper underneath it. "Draco can't get in if it's closed."</p><p>"What?" Hermione gave the door a curious look. "But he was going in and out all night when I was here last week."</p><p>Pansy pointed at the stopper. "That'll keep it open for him. There's a spell on the door. Only women can get in if it's closed. Think it's a variation of the spell Hogwarts had to keep boys out of the girls' dorms, but I never asked. Narcissa guards–guarded her privacy." She moved to Narcissa's bed, smoothed out the blanket, and adjusted one of the pillows, keeping her back to Hermione.</p><p>Hermione gave Pansy a moment to gather herself, then clapped her hands brightly. "Where shall we start? Clothes? Shoes? Quick, pick something, or I'll be forced to start a list." </p><p>Pansy made a quiet, somewhat sniffling, laugh. "Right," she said. "Good start on the distraction, Granger. Keep at it." She turned, scanned the room, and gestured to a pair of doors opposite the bed. "Bathroom to the left, dressing room to the right. Evening gowns and formalwear will be in the vault with her furs and her best jewelry, so nothing to worry about there."</p><p>Hermione followed Pansy into the dressing room. Racks of shoes, boots, and slippers lined one side; rows of dresses, skirts, and tops lined the other. One section was nothing but cloaks and the far end was a tall cabinet with several wide drawers, each with a tiny lock. "We'll do that last," Pansy said. "Bound to be her lingerie and the really personal items."</p><p>"You weren't kidding about guarding her privacy," Hermione said, looking at a larger drawer near the bottom of one cabinet. The handle on it was shinier than the rest, as if it had been handled more often, and the brass plate around the keyhole was heavily scratched. She wondered what Narcissa kept in there. A diary, maybe. Childhood keepsakes.</p><p>Pansy waved her wand and floated several hatboxes from high shelves into the bedroom. "Narcissa has–had a lot of secrets."</p><p>At the far end of one skirt rack, Hermione found three pairs of canvas trousers on a shelf tucked into a corner. They were neatly folded and well-pressed, but all of them had heavy staining around the knees. She unfolded one pair and held it up.</p><p>"Oh," Pansy said. She lifted the leg up, running her fingers across the stain. "Narcissa used to garden. Back when we were little. We'd be running around in the grass, and Narcissa would always be nearby with her little secateurs and her basket. She'd pull weeds, clip dead blooms, all of that. She enjoyed it. There would be vases all over the house with fresh arrangements." She made a wobbly smile. "And every time I stayed over, I'd wake up to a pansy on the table next to my bed. Just one, in a little bud vase."</p><p>After a moment, she exhaled sharply and her smile softened. "We'll put those in a discard pile. They're not good enough to donate." Pansy grabbed an armload of blouses and took them out to start sorting.</p><p>The next couple of hours went swiftly, clothes sorted into donate or discard. Almost everything was in good condition, as if it had been either worn rarely or treated with care. Only a few items were so old or faded that they needed to go into the discard box: a soft chiffon yellow jumper with the elbows worn through and the hem unraveling, a pair of thin leather gloves with a broken seam over one thumb, a floral dressing gown with ragged lace around the neck and wrists. </p><p>Hermione was considering the jumper, trying to decide if it could be rewoven, when Draco walked in. "I bought that for her," he said, joining Hermione at the side of the bed. He smoothed one hand across the front of the jumper, the delicate wool flowing under his fingers. "Saved all the pocket money she sent me for a few months. Didn't buy myself a single sweet or treat."</p><p>"Or me," Pansy said from the dressing room. </p><p>Draco laughed under his breath. "Or you. You were rather cross with me until I confessed I wanted to buy this for her and it had to be a surprise."</p><p>Pansy came out with several pairs of satin evening gloves and added them to the donate pile. "What girl could resist a boy who wanted to get a present for his mother?" she said over her shoulder as she went back. She raised her voice so they could hear her clearly. "Showed you were considerate. Besides, you looked so <em>serious</em> when we went into the shop. Madame barely held it together, watching a ten year old shopping for cashmere. You were so particular!"</p><p>One corner of Draco's mouth curled as he stroked Hermione's hair across her shoulders. "I still am," he murmured.</p><p>"It's a beautiful color," Hermione said, leaning against him. "I'm sure your mother loved it. I think it can be saved." </p><p>"No, that's not necessary," he said. He sat on the edge of the bed and drew Hermione in between his knees. "I don't need to save it. I remember her wearing it. Every time I came home from school, she'd wear it to dinner, just for me. The memory is all I need."</p><p>She contemplated the jumper one more time, then set it behind him, separate from the rest. An idea was in her mind, and she didn't want the jumper discarded, regardless of what he said.</p><p>Smiling tentatively, she draped her arms over Draco's shoulders. "We're almost done in the dressing room. How are you doing?"</p><p>He brushed the tip of his nose against hers. "Better. It's hard going, though." Tipping his head, he gave her a light kiss. "I'm glad you're here. I thought, after dinner, we could take a walk in the rose garden."</p><p>"I'd like that." She leaned closer, smiling to herself when he nuzzled into her hair and took a long breath. "Show me the roses you keep giving me."</p><p>Draco chuckled. "I will. And after that, my study. I want–I said I'd talk to you. I <em>want</em> to talk to you, Hermione."</p><p>She caught her lip in her teeth and nodded. Laying her hand over his heart, she looked into his eyes. "I know it's hard, but after, it will be better. Talking helps." </p><p>He looked at her and her heart stuttered. It was the same expression he'd had the morning they woke up together at the club. Yearning touched with fear. It was open and honest, it was vulnerable, and it hit her as hard as his dimpled smile could. It made her want to throw herself into his arms and never let go of him. </p><p>Hermione kissed him, threading her fingers through his hair and shivering at his soft growl. Only Pansy's loud, pointed coughing stopped her from going further. She pulled back, feeling a heat on her cheeks that was matched by the heightened pink color in Draco's face. "Find something, Pansy?" she said, tugging at her collar.</p><p>Pansy stood behind her, brows raised and green eyes full of amusement, with a square paper box in her hands. It looked well-handled but didn't seem to have an opening. She set the box on the bed beside Hermione and Draco and considered it with her hands on her hips. "This was in that bottom drawer, the one with the scratched keyhole. Draco, do you know what's in here?"</p><p>"I've never seen it before." Draco touched the box curiously. The box quivered and he furrowed his brows. As they watched, an illustration of a dragon appeared on the top of the box. Draco made a strange sound and set his hand on it, the pads of his fingers fitting into four small spines on the dragon's back. </p><p>The top of the box disappeared to reveal the single item inside.</p><p>Hermione craned her head to look, and it took her a moment to realize Draco and Pansy had both gone stiff. "What?" she said, pulling a stuffed animal from the box. Ashes drifted onto the bed, the smell of smoke rising up. "Why are you–it's a Kneazle. Why is it burnt?"</p><p>"Amie," Draco said in a hoarse voice. His fingers shook as he touched the Kneazle's tail. "It's mine. It's Amie. She–she saved–"</p><p>He shoved Hermione back and bolted up from the bed, striding out of the room without another word. A few seconds later, the house shook with a violent thunderous crack, the sound of Draco's Apparition.</p><p>Pansy gently set the stuffed Kneazle back into the box. "Our fathers were fighting and we weren't allowed to talk to each other," she said, her eyes on the blackened fur. "Narcissa gave him this so he'd have a friend. Then while we were at Hogwarts first year, Lucius burned most of his toys. Draco thought this burned too. Narcissa must have–she would have been in so much trouble if Lucius knew."</p><p>She touched one singed paw, tears sliding down her cheeks. Hermione went to put her arm around Pansy's shoulder, but Pansy drew back, shaking her head. "I don't need–Go after Draco. The trail into the woods. He'll be at the bridge."</p><p>She grabbed Hermione's hand and shook it hard. "Go to him."</p><p>Hermione's eyes widened. Pansy's tears, the tightness of her voice, the way Draco had nearly run from the room. "He's not–he won't <em>hurt</em> himself!"</p><p>"No. <em>No</em>. He wouldn't. But he's hurt." Pansy futilely wiped her cheeks. "He's hurt too much, and I think he's about to break."</p>
<hr/><p>He landed at the side of the river, grabbing onto a tree as his feet slipped in the wet grass. </p><p>
  <i>Curled into his bed, blanket stuffed between his teeth to muffle the sobs. The bedroom door creaking, a quiet voice emerging from the darkness. My dragon, my poor dragon. Mummy's hand stroking his hair, tucking a soft toy under his arm. A new friend. But don't tell your father.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Walking beside his father, still smarting from Dumbledore's favoritism to Gryffindor, still angry at the extra points handed out, the cup stolen from Slytherin. Father, it wasn't– Silence, boy. I do not wish to hear from a member of the first class in seven years to fail to win the house cup. We will discuss this at home.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Stepping into his room, stopping, staring. Father, where are my toys? Empty shelves, empty trunks; unopened, advanced textbooks on a shining new desk, still-packaged broom beside a gleaming Snitch. Study and sport are all you will concern yourself with now. But Father, Father, where–cutting himself off as Mummy squeezes his arm in warning, as she glances at the ashes in the fireplace. At the blackened wings of a wooden dragon. Thanking Father for the broom and books, head bowed. A curled lip and a sneer, a tap of a cane on the floor. Study, boy.</i>
</p><p>Draco staggered onto the bridge, gripping the railing tight to hold himself up. He leaned on it, staring down into the rushing water. Every breath ached in his lungs, every heartbeat pounded in his temples.</p><p>
  <i>I would have thought you’d be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam. Leaving the shop, a hand on his shoulder, fingers digging in tightly. I see your summer of studying will do you no good. I will have to get you onto the Quidditch team to see you make anything of yourself this year.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Mum, he– He is your father, Draco. And he ... has much on his mind. You cannot argue with him like so. Come here. Thin arms around his shoulders, a soft cheek pressed to his hair. I have an idea, my dragon. When he is at the Ministry tomorrow, we will go to the tea room in Avebury. Just us. But, Mum, it's Muggle. An impish, dimpled smile and bright eyes. I know. It will be our secret. Don't tell your father.</i>
</p><p>He stared blindly into the river, memories washing over him as fast as the water flowed beneath him. He was eleven again, he was fourteen, he was at school, on trial, in prison, his ribs were breaking, his arm was burning, his walls were shattering.</p><p>
  <i>She's cutting flowers in the garden, arranging a centerpiece on the dinner table, wiping up spilled water and crushed petals and broken glass. Looking away from Draco as his father drinks another and another and another glass of wine at dinner, looking away from the wine dripping down the wall. She's standing, fingers trembling, when Lucius orders her to follow him upstairs. Your wifely duties and do not delay, I am not in the mood to wait for you.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Mum, don't, he's saying. Don't let him– Draco. He's my husband. I have no choice. Watching her lean against the wall and put her hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking. Hearing a door upstairs slam closed. He's sneaking into the billiards room, grabbing cigarettes from the case on the side table, grabbing a bottle of brandy.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Sitting on the bridge, listening to the river, throat burning, lips tingling, stomach roiling from nicotine and alcohol and anger.</i>
</p><p>Draco yanked his cuffs open, grinding the heel of his hand into the broken Dark Mark on his arm. No choice. She had no choices, he had no choices. He had duty, responsibility, a bloodline to uphold, a thousand years of blood to protect. </p><p>He had a responsibility. He had an assignment. He had to succeed where his father had failed.</p><p>He had to save his family. Whatever the cost to himself.</p><p>
  <i>Burning in his flesh, hoarse screams echoing to a moonlit sky. A high-pitched laugh fading into blackness.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>His eyes panicked and terrified in the mirror, cheeks hollowed, hair limp and dull. The cold of the sink under his palms. Gasping breaths, pounding heart. Myrtle's piercing voice soft behind his shoulder, her ghostly hand on his back.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>You have to mean it, Draco, you have to mean it! You must do this, Draco, now! Ragged nails clutching his cheeks, mad grey eyes staring into his. A hiss of hot breath against his ear. Weak, nephew. You're weak. And weakness must be burned out of the blood. Wand at his throat, fist clenched in his hair, a sharp kick to the back of his knees. If you can't learn through watching, maybe you can learn through pain.</i>
</p><p>Draco drew his wand, spinning to cast a spear of ice at the boulder on the far side of the bridge. Another. Another. </p><p>Flames.</p><p>Ice.</p><p>Curses thrown, spell after spell. </p><p>
  <i>You have to mean it.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>You have one life and it belongs to this family. Do not disgrace our name.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>A shove in the back, an intake form under his shaking hands, the text half-blurred through a black and swollen eye, lashes stuck together with blood. Malfoy, Draco Lucius.</i>
</p><p>Flames. Ice. Draco duelled the boulder on the far side of the bridge, the boards rattling under his heels as he whirled through the forms of each spell.</p><p>
  <i>Cracks of Apparition, shouts in the air, shrieks of mad laughter. An arm around his neck, dragging him over the back of the bench, stone tearing his shirt and ripping at his skin. Fighting the hands on his limbs, struggling against the arm on his throat, choking for breath. Mother's terrified screams. Red eyes, a high cold laugh. Black smoke and flames in his blood.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I haven’t got any options! I’ve got to do it! He’ll kill me! He’ll kill my whole family! You don’t know what I’m capable of, you don’t know what I’ve done!</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Crucio. My Lord, no! Crucio! Was it the Granger girl? Crucio! Master, please, please, no. I don't know, I don't know. Crucio! You let her escape! Red eyes glittering with fury, white face twisted in rage. Crucio!</i>
</p><p>Draco threw more spells, his arm slicing through the air. He spun, he slashed, he howled curses.</p><p>
  <i>Dry, cracked lips twisting in a snarl, rancid breath hitting his mouth. Dark hair, stinking of oakmoss, falling around him. Fight back, coward. Show me what you can do, boy, or you'll never live to be a man.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Screaming until his throat shreds, blood pouring over his teeth, choking on it, seizing. Narcissa throwing herself in front of the next curse. Screaming, writhing, putting herself in the path of the Cruciatus. Mum, no. No! He's spitting blood onto the floor, and his mother is screaming. It was her, my Lord, it was. It was the girl. Red eyes, white face, skeletal arm lifting again. Crucio!</i>
</p><p>Flames and ice. Draco's spells grew sharper. He reached deep inside himself for the vile arts he'd been trained in, cracked apart the walls blocking the Dark skills he'd been taught. His magic felt like cold fire in the air around him. The boulder was cracking, chips flying away. They struck his arms, his face. Draco screamed curses, screamed until his lip split and he tasted his own blood.</p><p>
  <i>Hermione on the floor, Narcissa behind her, fingers tight on her throat, choking her. Call him, call him. He's raising his wand, a lump in his throat. Don't make me do this.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Don't make me choose.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Her brown eyes, flecked with gold, meeting his. Absolute trust in her face. Firing the spell, twin thumps of bodies falling over the decade-old bloodstain on the floor.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Gasping for breath, feeling his face twisting, heart pounding. Dropping his wand. Picking her up, falling into a chair, cradling her to his chest. Burrowing into dark hair, breathing in jasmine. Hermione. Hermione. Hermione. Forgive me.</i>
</p>
<hr/><p>Hermione slipped out of the house and into the rear gardens, eventually finding a trail that led into the woods. She followed it, wand held cautiously at her side. She took a few false paths and a few wrong turns, some time passing before she heard the sound of water flowing rapidly.</p><p>She emerged from the trees and saw Draco, standing on a flat wooden bridge over a fast, narrow river. He had his wand out, his shirt untucked, and his sleeves rolled up, and he was dueling an imaginary opponent. Sweat had his shirt stuck to his back and sides, his hair plastered to his skull. His feet pounded on the bridge, back and forth as he spun and dodged, each spell flaring against a massive boulder on the far side of the bridge.</p><p>Hermione couldn't even identify the spells he was casting. He moved too rapidly through them, cast better than half non-verbally. His movements looked familiar, the set of his shoulders and the sweep of his arm, and when it came to her, she closed her eyes. He fought like Bellatrix.</p><p>She knew his aunt had trained him in Occlumency and the Dark Arts. From the sharp angles of his spells and the violence in his motions, she suspected Bellatrix had done her best to train him to kill.</p><p>As he duelled, bits of the boulder broke away, rebounding from his spells. There were spots of blood on his face and arms where he'd been hit by the chips of stone. He cast again, and again, his arm a blur as he fought. He cast spells faster, each one slamming harder into the boulder. </p><p>As she watched from the shadows of the trees, his movements turned erratic. His spells sizzled through the air, knocking limbs away from the trees on the far end of the bridge, digging deep gouges into the boulder. He threw magic at it, screaming vicious curses and Dark spells, until a final slash of his arm sent a shockwave through the air.</p><p>The boulder detonated. Chips and points and spears of stone exploded from it. Hermione ducked, dropping down to cover her head until the patter of falling rocks ended.</p><p>Draco stood in the center of the bridge, wand extended, chest heaving. His gulps for breath were audible even at that distance. The destruction of the boulder had left him with blood on his arms and his face. His lip was torn, and a long scratch up one cheek dripped blood down his jaw to stain his collar. He looked at her, closed his eyes, and slowly lowered his wand. "You shouldn't be here."</p><p>Hermione stood carefully, brushing dirt off her hands, and took a step closer. Draco's wand twitched at his side, but he held position, his breath gradually evening out. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked at her as he put his wand away. </p><p>"You shouldn't be here," he said again. "You should go."</p><p>She took another step, her foot touching the wooden bridge. "Do you want me to go?"</p><p>Draco tensed, but didn't move. He didn't speak. He watched her coming closer.</p><p>Hermione slowly approached him, telegraphing each of her movements, and carefully reached out. She took his left hand and glanced up into his face. His jaw was tight, his skin pink from exertion, and his eyes were exhausted. He wasn't blocking any of his thoughts or emotions, as far as she could tell, not a single one of them, and his face was full of so much anguish that her heart ached for him.</p><p>"I'm sorry," she said.</p><p>Draco licked his lips, shaking his head in confusion.</p><p>"I'm sorry." She touched her wand to his arm, carefully healing the scratches from the stone. "I'm sorry, Draco."</p><p>She turned his arm over, trailing her fingers around the edges of the snake and skull. "I'm sorry you've been hurt, that you're still getting hurt."</p><p>Without speaking, he brought his other hand up, his fingers trembling in her grasp. Hermione healed those scratches as well, concentrating to close each of the wounds. One was too deep to heal without a mark, a thin pale trace forming a river between the sparkling stars of his constellation tattoo. </p><p>Hermione stroked that new scar, another of the dozens he carried, evidence of the things he'd done and the things that had been done to him. "I'm sorry that you feel like you have to block so much of yourself off, because no matter how much you want to, you can never, ever forget your pain."</p><p>He sucked in a breath, a shuddering and cracked sound. </p><p>"I'm sorry," she said. "That you've spent so much of your life afraid and alone. I'm sorry it terrifies you to think of letting someone past your walls, of letting someone see who you really are. You're frightened and you're hurting and I know it and I'm so sorry for it." She swallowed, setting her hand in his palm. "But I'm <em>not</em>. Because you're trying to let me in even though it hurts. You <em>want</em> me to be in your life and you want me past your walls. And I want that. I want to be with you, Draco. All of you, the real you. No tactics, no mask."</p><p>A spot of pink bloomed on his arm, bright against the pale skin.</p><p>Hermione looked up to see a clear track through the dried blood on his face. She put her free hand under his chin, catching the next tear before it fell. </p><p>"I'll go," she murmured. "If you want me to go, I will."</p><p>He clutched her hand, bowing his head as another tear slipped down his face. "Stay. Stay with me." His voice broke. "I made my choice, Hermione. I'll make it again. You."</p><p>Hermione touched his jaw. "Bend down," she said quietly.</p><p>Draco shook his head. Slowly, he lowered to one knee. </p><p>Hermione held her breath at the vulnerability of his position and the shimmer in his eyes. She could see his heartbeat racing in his throat. <i>If he'll kneel for you</i>, she heard echoing in the back of her mind. <i>If he'll kneel for you.</i></p><p>She took a deep breath and drew her wand along the scrape on his cheek, taking care that the injury sealed over cleanly, the skin knitting together without a mark. She took even more care with the torn skin on his lip, gently healing it before she put her wand away. </p><p>Running her fingers through his hair, she looked into his eyes. "You're safe," she said, and kissed him lightly, from the corner of his eye, down his cheek, and across his mouth, tasting his tears on her lips. "You can let go."</p><p>Draco wrapped his hand around the back of her leg. She stepped forward, letting him rest his head against her, and set her hands over his shoulders to cradle the back of his neck. "You're not alone," she murmured. "You're safe. Take off your mask. I have you, Draco. I love you."</p><p>His other knee hit the bridge with a crash. He wrapped both arms around her and held tight, his head buried in the crook of her neck.</p><p>Draco cried in absolute silence, his body shaking without a sound.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 22</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione woke as the mattress shifted, a weight behind her moving away. She cracked one eye open to see Draco getting out of bed and slipping across the room to push open a set of tall French doors onto a balcony. He stepped outside, the orange flare of fire glowing on his face as he lit a cigarette. He propped his hip against the stone railing, arms crossed. Smoke drifted gently away.</p>
<p>She sat up, bending her knees to rest her folded arms on them. She set her chin on her arms and watched him silently, looking for any hints that he might be pulling into himself again, rebuilding all of his walls to block her out after the difficult, restless night.</p>
<p>Once Draco had broken down on the bridge, they'd stayed wrapped up together for a long while. He'd knelt, holding on to her, weeping without even the smallest sound. It made Hermione's heart ache to think there was likely a reason he'd learned to cry without noise. He hadn't spoken, just held on to her until his grief ran its course. They'd walked back to the house in the gold light of sunset, his arm heavy on her shoulders, and gone straight upstairs to his rooms. </p>
<p>Neither of them had bothered to change for bed. They hadn't even turned down the blankets. Draco had fallen into the pillows and pulled her with him, wrapping his arms around her and sinking his face into her hair. He was asleep in nearly the next breath. He'd woken a few times, cursing and begging in his nightmares, and each time she'd held him, soothing him back to sleep. She'd even summoned her perfume from her overnight bag, a fresh application on her wrists and throat to surround them with the scent of amber and ground Draco in reality.</p>
<p>Finally, well into the night, he'd relaxed, holding her loosely and snoring into her hair. His hand had been warm, tucked under her shirt to spread across her stomach. The handful of murmurs he made were soft and steady, like whispers to calm an infant.</p>
<p>Now, Hermione watched him as he stood on the balcony. It didn't seem as though he'd fallen into a trap of his memories and grief. He stood without the rigid shoulders and locked spine she recognized as him fiercely controlling his own body. He looked better after a few hours of rest. Wrinkled shirt and disheveled hair from the night, but not more than that. He appeared to be recovering. </p>
<p>She let him smoke and glanced around the room, the sunrise light from the open balcony doors and tall windows giving her a good look for the first time. The room was much as she'd expected: dark, with little in the way of ornament or decoration other than the carvings of the furniture itself. It was a normal, if antique, bedroom, but there was something off about it. Something didn't seem right.</p>
<p>She was in a massive four-poster bed, with a dark brocade canopy and matching drapes fastened to the posts by the headboard. There was a seating arrangement near the fireplace, and a bench by the open doors to the bathroom and dressing room. </p>
<p>Hermione stroked the soft nap of the thick duvet, then realized what was missing. It might be his room, but nothing in it said 'Draco'.</p>
<p>No books, no mementos, no holiday souvenirs. No portraits, no trinkets, no paintings on the walls. There was a wide-cased clock on the mantel of the fireplace and a crystal ashtray next to the clock, but other than those, everything was impersonal. Even his cubicle at the Ministry had more personal touches. It wasn't a place he lived, only a place he slept.</p>
<p>She turned her head, scanning the room with her brows knotted. Did he not like to have personal items in his room, or had he been forbidden from it? If Lucius had burned his toys as a child, she thought, maybe Draco had learned one painful and permanent lesson: keeping anything precious to him meant losing it. </p>
<p>The only thing she found that had any direct connection to Draco was three framed photographs on a table next to the bed. </p>
<p>Draco and Narcissa, sitting expressionless and stiff in formal robes, several inches between them; Draco and Blaise in Quidditch uniforms, their faces full of concentration as they tossed a practice Snitch back and forth.</p>
<p>Hermione picked up the third picture. It was a cut-out from the society article that had covered Harry and Pansy's wedding. They were in the background, talking to guests at a table. Hermione was in the foreground, turned away to speak to one of the Aurors who had served as Harry's attendants during the ceremony. She didn't see that across the table, Draco was looking at her. </p>
<p>Hermione watched the grainy photograph run through its entire sequence, and Draco's eyes never left her. For a moment, she caught that hint of yearning in his face, that quiet unspoken want she now recognized, before his pupils narrowed. She could see him blocking off his own thoughts in that photo, putting a wall up in front of his feelings about her, whatever they had been at the time.</p>
<p>She put the photo back in its place and slipped to the edge of the bed, making a face when she had to roll onto her stomach and stretch her pointed toes for the floor. She dropped the last couple of inches, her feet sinking silently into the thick carpet.</p>
<p>By the time she made it to the balcony, Draco had finished his cigarette and was watching her. She moved into his embrace, her arms around his hips. His heartbeat was slow and steady when she set her head against his chest. "I can get you the original," she said.</p>
<p>Draco twisted one of her curls around his finger. "Not following."</p>
<p>"The photograph. The one from the wedding. I can get the original for you. Or a copy of it, at least." </p>
<p>"Ah. No, but thank you."</p>
<p>Hermione hesitated, then tipped her head back to look up at him. "You deserve to have something a little nicer than a picture cut out of the paper, Draco."</p>
<p>Draco cupped her face, stroking his thumb along her cheekbone. "Actually, I was rather hoping to replace that before long. Something of the two of us. I have every intention of being in many others with you from here out. You'll never take a picture again without me standing next to you. Even gossip columnists will get tired of following us with a camera because it'll never change. I'll be looming over you in every photo from now until forever."</p>
<p>The statement, even with the light teasing, made her heart drum faster. Forever sounded amazing. She went up on her toes and put her hands around his shoulders, thinking to draw him down to her, then huffed and smacked his sternum gently before patting the stone railing. "Sit down," she said. "I want to be face to face when you say things like that to me."</p>
<p>Draco laughed under his breath. "I have a different idea." Instead of sitting, he hauled her up, pulling her legs around his waist.</p>
<p>Hermione gave a soft yelp and clung to him. "If what happened the last time you told me you had a different idea is anything to go by, well." She didn't have his memory but she'd never forget him dragging her to the edge of the bed and ripping her knickers off with his teeth.</p>
<p>He kissed the point of her nose. "<em>That</em> is for later. Right now is for having that talk I promised you." </p>
<p>She looked into his eyes, one hand cradling his jaw. There was the faintest, lightest hint of stubble under her hand, his weekly inhibitor charm wearing off. "Are you ready?"</p>
<p>"No," he said bluntly. "No, I'll never be ready. But I'll do it." He let out a silent sigh, his eyes going distant for a moment before he refocused on her face. "You need me to do this. To tell you the truth. I'm not ready, but I will. I want you to have everything you want, Hermione. And if that includes telling you my history, <em>all</em> of my history, then I will."</p>
<p>She brushed his hair away from his forehead. His face was starting to tense up again, the fine lines forming at the corners of his eyes, but his pupils weren't closing down or blowing wide and his hands weren't going cold. He wasn't getting locked into a memory or blocking off his thoughts. It was as relaxed as she thought he could get, at least for now.</p>
<p>"It's your choice," she told him. She raised up straighter, feeling him automatically adjust his grip to keep her close and secure, and set her brow against his. She kissed the spot on his lip that had been split open the day before. "You know I want you to let me in and let me help you carry all these troubles. And—and I know I can be pushy about it, but I still want you to understand that no matter how much I want you to talk to me, I am never, <em>never</em> going to demand it or force you. I'm not going to take your choices away."</p>
<p>Draco inhaled slowly. Hermione knew he was drawing in the scent of her hair and perfume, using it to ground himself. She fell silent, letting him find the right moment, and soon enough he nodded. "I made my choice," he murmured. "I'll keep making it. For you."</p>
<p>He took her to the bed. A muttered charm pulled back the duvet and the blue sheets. Draco laid her down gently, leaning over her with a hint of a smile. "I imagined this going a bit differently," he said as he nudged her chin up to place a kiss on her throat. "Carrying you to my bed for the first time. I hadn't intended for there to be much talking."</p>
<p>He stretched out beside her and she rolled to settle her back against his chest, her head resting on his arm. She took his hand and laced her fingers in his, their greyhound rings clinking softly together. "Then this isn't the first time," she said. "We'll call this a practice session. You'll have another chance, Draco. Lots of chances. What did you tell me the morning after your inquiry?"</p>
<p>Draco settled the blankets into place over them and took a long, shaking breath. "If you can handle the bad nights," he recited. "If you can do that, this will be the first of many. Every chance I get."</p>
<p>Hermione closed her eyes and nudged her foot between his calves, pressing close to him. "I can handle it. Talk to me."</p>
<hr/>
<p>She was wrapped in his arms, her back to his chest and her legs twined in his, and he could focus on the jasmine in her hair. Jasmine and amber, the scent he associated with her, and only with her. It calmed him, made him feel secure, so much so that his protective mental walls had changed because of her. He knew, when he built them now, that the color of the stone had shifted from the pale yellow of the Manor to dark cinnamon mortared with clear amber, that the vines he wrapped around them were lush with jasmine flowers. </p>
<p>He built his walls with her peace and acceptance, not his fears.</p>
<p>It made it simpler, somehow, to talk to her while she was curled up with him in his bed. Not easy, he knew, definitely not easy. But simpler. </p>
<p>That she was facing away from him helped, he silently admitted. He didn't think he could bring himself to speak if she was looking at him.</p>
<p>He didn't want to meet her eyes, to see the little flecks of gold covered with tears. It was hard enough to listen to her as she cried, with hearing each tiny sob she made as he detailed another thrown bottle of wine or another slammed door. </p>
<p>He rolled his shoulder, listening to it click, then deliberately shifted it enough to make it pop, a sound that echoed like a shot in the room. Hermione shuddered, biting down on her knuckle when he told her how he'd been injured. How his father had heard him crying over the loss of his toys: his train set, his dragons, his storybooks. Amie. How his father had decided it was time for him to learn to be a man. Stand like a man, drink like a man, show no pain like a man. Like a Malfoy. The glass of thick red wine he'd been ordered to drink, another and another, before the whistle and whip of the long wooden cane. The crack of bone in his shoulder and the pale, expressionless blur of his father's face, the Malfoy mask in place. The lies he told about a trip down the stairs, a fall from a broom, until a practice Bludger caught his shoulder and gave him a truth everyone had witnessed.</p>
<p>He described the long hours of testing, perfumes and wines and samples of scents, silver goblets on a table, the demand to find the cherry in the wine, find the plum. White tea, black currant, heliotrope, bergamot. Spices, which spice? Woodsy, which wood? If the wine he selected didn't pair well with dinner, or the society wife didn't like her gift, there was hell to pay for his mistake. Do better, you're better than this, he said, his voice shifting into his father's cadence. Failure is unacceptable. Malfoys do not fail. This is not good enough, you are not good enough. Stand like a man. And if you make a sound, Draco whispered into Hermione's hair, I will ensure that you cannot make another. </p>
<p>Hermione curled in tighter on herself and Draco curled with her, folding her into the circle of his arms as if he could shield her from his own words. And as much as he wanted to stop, he kept going. Draco talked, jumping back and forth through his life, unable to keep an order. He let his memories flow out of him the same way they'd flooded through him on the bridge, each event reminding him of another.</p>
<p>He told her of the terrors as the Death Eaters made themselves at home in his house, of the horrors of the Dark Lord's presence. Of sitting at the table and watching as Nagini consumed a woman, of listening to Fenrir and his wolves howling in the woods. Of day after day of being unable to eat, of night after night of being unable to sleep.</p>
<p>The day Harry attacked him with the Sectumsempra, he told her, he'd nearly died but it had saved his life. The Dark Lord had given him a suicide mission, and he'd intended to follow through. He'd wanted everything to <em>end</em>, the pain and the fear and the failures, but he'd been too injured to follow through on his desperate plan to take the only way out he could see. </p>
<p>He talked about his mother, of the Unbreakable Vow she'd made in a desperate attempt to save his life, of the murder he'd tried to commit in his own desperate attempt to save hers. Of the way he stood there on that tower with his hand shaking and his heart pounding, of knowing that no matter what choice he made, it was too late. He was going to die, in battle or in prison, with a brand on his arm and a fracture in his soul.</p>
<p>Hermione clung to him, her fingers locked around his hand as he told her about Azkaban, the chill of the cell and the screaming of inmates in the night. The weevils and maggots in the food, the oily scum on the water, the roaches and silverfish in the cots. The beating, the broken nose, and the two days in the box. Stepping outside the walls the day after he turned twenty, flinching away from the sunlight.</p>
<p>He whispered his loneliness into her hair, a loneliness he knew he'd brought on himself. Pushing away his friends, rejecting help, putting up wall after wall of arrogance and superiority to keep anyone from seeing how weak he felt, how frightened he truly was.</p>
<p>He didn't cover everything. It wasn't possible for him to describe it all. He covered enough to make her weep, her voice breaking each time she whispered <i>I'm sorry, I'm sorry</i> into his fingers as she held his hand against her mouth.</p>
<p>The mantel clock struck noon before he'd finished. "But I'm still alive," he said in a low voice. "In the end, that's what always mattered to me."</p>
<p>Hermione rolled over to face him. Her cheeks were streaked with tear tracks, her eyes red and swollen. "How," she asked. "How have you survived?"</p>
<p>"Malfoys always survive," he said. "By any means." He rubbed his neck and coughed, hissing as his throat protested the hours of talking.</p>
<p>"Stop, stop." Hermione laid her hand over his, her fingers brushing the runes of his prisoner tattoo. "You shouldn't talk any more. You need to rest. You're done. I've heard everything I needed to hear and more. You never have to talk about any of that again, unless you want to. I won't ask. It's all in the past."</p>
<p>"I need to—" His voice cracked and he shook his head, trying again. "There's still something I want to tell you but—"</p>
<p>"We have time. I'm not leaving, not today. I'm staying here with you." She gave him a brief, watery smile. "I'll be here when you need me."</p>
<p>It was an echo of what he'd told her when he gave her the greyhound ring. Draco tipped his head to kiss her. "Haven't chased you off?" he muttered, closing his eyes. A night of restless sleep and hours of going through his history, his lifetime of pain, had left him feeling wrung out. The flood of memories had drained him. All he could do was hold on to Hermione, her warmth and her scent close to him.</p>
<p>He felt her lips soften against his mouth. "No. And you're never going to, Draco. Never."</p>
<hr/>
<p>They fell asleep again, both of them mentally exhausted from the hours Draco had talked. When Hermione woke, Draco was sprawled on his stomach and snoring next to her. She leaned over and kissed his temple before she quietly slipped out of the bed and grabbed her overnight bag as she headed into the bathroom.</p>
<p>She took a quick shower, hair dried with a charm, then brushed her teeth and put on fresh jeans and a loose shirt. After everything that had happened since the funeral on Thursday, there was something she needed to do. She left the room and silently made her way downstairs on bare feet.</p>
<p>The door of the drawing room was unlocked. Hermione pushed it open, wincing as it creaked, and stepped inside. The shutters had been opened, afternoon light flooding the covered furniture and the purple walls. She walked across the room, stopping where the floor still held the stain of her blood.</p>
<p>This was the spot where Bellatrix had tortured her for information, had pinned her down and carved 'mudblood' into her arm. Hermione held her breath as she went to her knees. This was where Narcissa had grabbed her and screamed for Draco to call Voldemort. One woman driven by madness; one driven by love.</p>
<p>Hermione pushed up her sleeve, running her fingers over the white lines of the scars. She'd feared and hated Bellatrix in equal measure, but Narcissa? Hermione shook her head at herself. She couldn't imagine that level of fear, the desperation for one's only child. She didn't blame Narcissa for attacking her, especially not after what Draco had told her of the punishing tortures they'd suffered.</p>
<p>She stared at her blood on the floor, at the letters scarred in her arm, and she took a shaky breath. She'd told Draco that everything he'd said to her, all of his memories and his pain, was in the past, but with her blood literally staining his home, she didn't know if that was true. </p>
<p>Hermione slowly drew her wand and touched the tip to the darkest part of the mark. She closed her eyes, concentrating, and muttered the strongest charms she knew. Scouring charms, cleaning charms, everything she could think of to cleanse the stain. When she opened her eyes again, she caught her breath in a tiny, relieved sob. </p>
<p>She put her wand away. "It's over," she whispered. "You won, Narcissa. He lived. He's—You loved him, you protected him. You can rest." She tapped the floor, the bloodstain cleared as thoroughly as she'd healed Draco's scrapes and wounds on the bridge. "I have him. He's alive and he's safe and I love him."</p>
<p>"You did say it, then."</p>
<p>Hermione twisted on her knees to see Draco leaning against the door frame, arms folded over his bare chest, the black lines of his tattoos and the white lines of his scars on full display. His hair was slicked back, still damp from a shower, and black pyjama bottoms hung low on his hips. His face was still, almost blank, but his lower lip was caught between his teeth and his eyes held a wariness.</p>
<p>Hermione nodded. "I did," she said. "Yesterday, on the bridge. I didn't know if you heard me. You were—"</p>
<p>"In the middle of a mental breakdown?" Draco said, lifting one brow. "Crying for my mummy?"</p>
<p>"In distress." Hermione pushed to her feet and went to him. She set her hand on his folded arms and looked up into his eyes. "And you're doing it again. Hiding the truth. Hiding how you feel. No tactics, Draco. You were grieving."</p>
<p>He sighed, closing his eyes before nodding. "Right," he said quietly. "Fair enough. I was grieving." </p>
<p>"You're <em>allowed</em> to grieve."</p>
<p>"I'm—I'm allowed." His voice thickened and his fingers shifted beneath his arm. </p>
<p>She knew, even without seeing, that he'd pressed hard on the tattoo that represented Lucius. He'd never outright said why he'd chosen it, but she understood now. The blank, uncaring mask. In all the memories he'd told her, in everything he'd said over the hours, he'd only had one good thing to say about his father. Even when drunk, Lucius had never raised his fist or his cane to Narcissa. </p>
<p>Moving slowly, she caught Draco's hand and drew it away. "You're allowed," she said again, keeping her voice soft. "You're allowed to grieve, to be in pain, to be lonely. You're allowed to feel hurt, Draco. And you're allowed to feel happy. You're allowed to <em>feel</em>."</p>
<p>He stayed silent and Hermione squeezed his fingers, unconsciously checking for a chill in them. His hand was warm. He wasn't falling into his own thoughts. "I'm here," she said. "I'm not afraid. You're not chasing me off."</p>
<p>"All the good days and the bad nights." Taking a deep breath, Draco opened his eyes. "Say it again," he whispered, his lips hardly moving. </p>
<p>There was no question what he meant. She knew what he needed to hear. Hermione pressed her left hand to his heart, the greyhound ring shining. Her chest ached and her heart drummed against her ribs. She held his gaze. "I love you."</p>
<p>A shiver ran through him. He wet his lips, his eyes darkening. Slowly, he cradled her cheeks and bent down to kiss her. </p>
<p>His mouth shaped words against hers. Silent words, the same words over and over, until he lifted his head. He swallowed, his throat bobbing, and gave a sharp exhale. </p>
<p>Hermione held her breath. She could feel his heart pounding under her palm, racing faster than he could fly. She kept her eyes on his and waited.</p>
<p>Draco smiled at her. "Hermione Granger," he said. His smile widened. His eyes gleamed silver and dimples formed in his cheeks. "I love you."</p>
<p>Hermione's knees buckled.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Draco cradled Hermione in his arms as he went back up the stairs. <em>Slowly</em> back up the stairs, pausing every few seconds to catch her mouth again for another long and sweeping kiss. Her hands roamed his back and shoulders and her eyes never left his.</p>
<p>He shouldered open his bedroom door. "This," he said with a nip to her mouth, "is how I imagined doing this for the first time. Just like this. But I still didn't get it right."</p>
<p>Hermione gave a soft laugh. She clung to him even as he stopped at the side of the bed. "Honestly, Draco. I know you've taken a woman to bed before. The housekeeper took my bags straight here."</p>
<p>"I asked her to do that. I wanted to have you here." He shook his head. "You're not understanding me. I don't think I'm saying it properly, but it's not as though I've had a lot of practice. This isn't a hotel bed or a club bed or anything like that. This is <em>my</em> bed. And you're the only woman who's ever been in it. Because you're the only woman I've loved."</p>
<p>Hermione's eyes widened. She glanced down at the bed and back to his face. "Only?" she said quietly. "That's ... that's one hell of a statement, Draco Malfoy."</p>
<p>"It's the truth. Nobody else. Ever." He brushed her lips in a soft kiss. "I've been in love with you for a long time, Hermione. I never—I didn't think I had a chance."</p>
<p>"You were wrong," she murmured. "Every chance we get."</p>
<p>Draco leaned over to set her down in the center of the bed and stretched out half-atop her, careful to keep most of his weight on the mattress. He kissed her again, remembering the first time he'd lain over her, on that bench in the garden of her townhouse. It seemed a thousand years ago, with everything that had happened between them since.</p>
<p>Everything he thought he shouldn't dream of, everything he'd believed he could never have. These were memories he would keep safe, that he would fight with everything he had to protect.  He loved her.</p>
<p>Draco nudged her chin up to explore the soft skin beneath her jaw. He kissed a path down her throat, licked the notch of her clavicle, and slowly worked his way back up to tug at her earlobe. "What do you want?" he whispered to her.</p>
<p>Hermione ran her hands up his back to grip his shoulder. "Don't tease," she said, her eyes already heavy with need. "I want you. Right now."</p>
<p>He laughed under his breath, pushing onto his elbow to smile at her. He let his hand slip down her stomach to pluck at the button of her jeans. "Tease? Whatever makes you think that I'd tease?"</p>
<p>Dipping down to kiss the point of her jaw, he lowered his voice to that growl he knew she liked. "Do you think I'd entertain myself touching you and kissing you until you were begging? That I'd gladly get between your thighs and lick you until you scream?"</p>
<p>Hermione swore, digging her fingers into the duvet. "Definitely a tease," she said.</p>
<p>"Mmm, perhaps you're right." Draco slid his hand down her thigh, hooking her knee to pull her leg up. He trailed his fingers along the seam of her jeans, back and forth, getting closer and closer to her center but not close enough to touch. </p>
<p>Hermione rolled her hips, her nose wrinkling. "<em>Definitely</em> a tease."</p>
<p>Draco grinned. He drew his fingers up, across her stomach, and popped the button at her waistband to slip beneath it. "No underwear," he said against her ear. "And judging from how well I can see your nipples through that shirt, no bra either."</p>
<p>"You never wear—" Her voice hitched as he rocked against her side, his cock already hardening from anticipation and want. "Un-underwear so you have no room to talk."</p>
<p>"I wasn't objecting." He nipped the curve of her ear and ground against her, letting her feel him. She reached for his cock, but he grabbed her hand, stilling her. He bit her throat and deliberately flattened her fingers over his length. "Slower. I want you begging for me."</p>
<p>She made a soft whimpering noise. "Damn you, Malfoy, if you're going to torment me, at least get me naked first. This outfit isn't conducive to seduction."</p>
<p>"Conducive to seduction." Draco laughed under his breath, leaning over to kiss her. "You have no idea how hot it gets me when you talk like that. Reminds me of that document handling lecture you gave to the department last year."</p>
<p>"The one you nearly ran out of—oh." Hermione bit her lip, then grinned broadly. "What did you do? Or, actually, I suppose the question is, where did you go to do it?"</p>
<p>"Locker room. Shower stall. And I barely made it. Didn't even undo my belt. Unzipped, pulled it out, and thought about how you touched your mouth when you said 'selection criteria for preservation and deacidification' and that was it. Came so hard I cracked my head on the wall."</p>
<p>Hermione laughed, throwing both arms around him and pulling him down for a long kiss. "Holdings maintenance is the process by which preservation actions are undertaken in order to reduce or defer the need for duplication or reproduction of original documents."</p>
<p>Draco growled deep in his throat. He rolled, pulling Hermione on top of him, and hooked both hands under her shirt. She lifted her arms and he yanked her shirt off, tossing it on the floor. He smoothed one hand up her ribs, fingers spread wide as he cupped her breast. "Do you remember asking me if I could cover you with one hand?" he said, doing exactly that and smiling when she shivered. "God, all the things you wanted me to do? 'Touch me, Draco, mark me.' We were supposed to be undercover, acting a role, and I was going insane."</p>
<p>He tensed his core and lifted up to kiss her again, rolling her nipple between his fingers. "I wanted you so much but we were undercover and— But then there was that kiss at the restaurant. The first visit to the club. And then you gave me that pamphlet you'd marked up with all the things I could do without asking. It felt real. But I told myself you were <em>acting</em>, that I was imagining things because I wanted you."</p>
<p>Hermione arched to push into his hand. Her head fell back. "I wanted you to take advantage of your freedom. And you were such a damned gentleman. You wouldn't make a move until I did. Very frustrating."</p>
<p>"I wasn't a gentleman in my head." Draco licked a trail down her throat and bit gently at the slope where her neck met her shoulder. A pinch to her nipple followed, with another bite, alternating until she wriggled on his lap. Draco purred into her neck. "No, I most assuredly wasn't a gentleman in my head. I had some very intense dreams about you going to your knees."</p>
<p>He nibbled along the curve of her ear. "I wanted to feel your tongue on me, wanted to see just how much of my cock you could swallow. I wanted to hold your hair in my fists and come in your mouth."</p>
<p>Hermione groaned. </p>
<p>Draco cupped both her breasts, her nipples stiff in his palms. "When you begged me to touch you that night at the club, god. I still couldn't believe I had my hands on you like that." He slid one hand down between her thighs, pressing the seam of her jeans against her body. "On you, and <em>in</em> you."</p>
<p>"I'd never come that hard before," she said, pressing down against his hand. She unzipped her jeans and shoved her hand in, her fingers moving against his through the denim. "I wanted you. We'd been so close in the room and then your leg—if you hadn't stopped, you know we wouldn't have <em>stopped</em>."</p>
<p>"I know." Draco remembered how soft and hot she'd been under him. If he hadn't caught his foot in the duvet and hurt his leg, he knew he'd have stripped those little blue knickers off her and been inside her within moments. Every ounce of permission he'd needed had been in her eyes and in the breathy pleas in her voice. "I wanted to fuck you right then, Hermione. I couldn't pretend any longer."</p>
<p>Hermione made a high-pitched keening noise. She rolled off his lap and yanked her jeans off, panting hard as she returned to straddle his legs. Up on her knees, she dug both hands into his hair when he kissed the purple scar between her breasts. "I couldn't either. The way—" She yelped when he took her nipple between his teeth. Her fingers tightened in his hair, and Draco set to licking her as she spoke, her voice quivering more with every word. "The way you talked to me. Your <em>voice</em>, Draco. When you're turned on, your voice gets even deeper and you get that little growl and fuck, it gets me wet."</p>
<p>He pushed one hand between her thighs. He hadn't intended to do more than touch the outer edges of her cunt, but her position and her arousal had her already spread for him. He circled her opening, then slipped one finger into her. </p>
<p>Hermione shook, squeezing around him. "And your ha-hands," she said. "Your hands are amazing. And strong. Every time you pick me up, I swear, I want to scream. And your fi—" She broke off with a long moan when he slipped a second finger into her, sucking hard on her nipple at the same time.</p>
<p>He twisted and took her to her back, trapping her leg between his to hold her open. He cupped her cunt in his hand, the soft skin hot against his palm. "Keep going," he said. He deliberately put that growl into his voice, the sound almost a rumble against her lips. "What about my fingers?"</p>
<p>"Long. So long. You wear rings. I-I-I like them all. But the-the—" Draco had spun his signet on his finger and pressed the ridges to her before she could complete her thought. Hermione bucked against his hand, her face turning a brilliant pink. "That one," she squeaked.</p>
<p>"You know, this normally fits tighter," he said. He rocked the ring over her clit. "I started wearing it loose enough to spin because of you."</p>
<p>Hermione covered her face, moaning into her fingers. "More. Draco, <em>please</em>."</p>
<p>"I think I know why you like this," he said. He shifted his hand, adjusting to get the ring against her clit and his fingers stroking shallowly inside her. He whispered against her ear. "Because you get off on the idea of how <em>horrified</em> my ancestors would be if they knew what I was doing to you."</p>
<p>She squeaked again, her entire body trembling, and Draco gave a low, dark laugh. "How much they would hate it if they knew what you were doing to me." He kissed her hard, driving his fingers deep into her, all the way to the knuckle and the band of his ring. Hermione keened and groaned, her hips lifting off the bed to match the rhythm of his hand. </p>
<p>"That you've bewitched me." He stroked his thumb over her clit, pressing hard and fast.</p>
<p>"That you've entranced me." He felt her ease enough to let him slide a third finger into her, a stretch in her body that made his heart race. </p>
<p>"That you've possessed me." He sucked on her throat, the tender skin pulled taut to leave the imprints of his teeth behind.</p>
<p>He felt her fluttering inside, heard her breath shifting, and raised up to look at her face, his fingers never stilling. "That I am completely, absolutely, unrepentantly in love with you."</p>
<p>Hermione shattered. She writhed on the bed, her face flushed dark. She shrieked his name, quivering and clawing at the duvet, her trapped thigh shaking between his legs.</p>
<p>Draco murmured praises to her throughout the long seconds of her orgasm. <i>I love you, that's my girl, that's my good girl, I love you, you're so beautiful, you'll always be mine, I love you.</i></p>
<p>When she shakily clutched at his wrist, he drew out of her and bent to kiss a tear off her cheek. She arched her back and cupped her breasts, rolling her peaked nipples between her fingers.  "Now. Please? Draco, I can't— No more waiting, please. Now, now, <em>now</em>."</p>
<p>Draco gave a soft laugh. "Yes, my love. Now." He stood and stripped, then crawled up from the foot of the bed, catching her ankles as he moved. He hooked her knees and pushed her legs back to hover over her. Hermione moaned and set her hands on his arms, nails digging in, as he spread her wide open for him.</p>
<p>Draco spent a moment admiring her, the trimmed dark curls on her mound, the petal-like folds of her cunt, the shimmering drops of arousal slipping out of her. He ducked his head and mouthed the inner curve of her thigh, sucking until he knew he would leave a mark, then placed a kiss on the hood of her clit. </p>
<p>Hermione grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged. "<em>Now</em>," she insisted. "Can't wait. In me."</p>
<p>Grinning to himself, Draco placed her legs around his waist and balanced on one hand. He fit the head of his cock to her and gradually pushed in. Hermione locked her legs tight, urging him deeper. Despite the heated look in her eyes and the warm give of her body, he was careful. He knew how small she was, how big he was, and how easily he could hurt her. </p>
<p>She gripped at him, squeezing around him each time he pressed forward, her breaths turning to pants as her inner muscles stretched to take him. "Please," she mumbled. "All of you." One hand slipped down to tap his chest over his heart. She met his eyes. "All of you, Draco."</p>
<p>He bent his elbows and lowered to kiss her, soft and delicate. "All of me," he said. He flexed his back and thrust to the hilt, eyes locked on her face when she groaned at finally having him completely inside her. "You have it."</p>
<p>Draco kissed her, again and again, one hand twined around hers, the other under her head. He made love to her, taking his time, letting her know his feelings through every languid kiss and slow glide inside her, letting her see his feelings in his eyes. He didn't put up walls or hold anything of himself back, surrendering entirely.</p>
<p>When he came, he clung to her, groaning her name into the thick mass of her hair spread across the bed. He collapsed, loose-limbed and exhausted, and felt her fingers tracing the lines of his back. When he regained enough breath to move, he rolled to his side and pulled her with him. </p>
<p>He curled around her, his cock still slowly pulsing inside her, and held her tight with his forehead pressed to hers.  He whispered to her, looking deep into her eyes. "You brought me to my knees, Hermione. You have everything. Heart, body, soul: I'll belong to you. As long as you want me, I'm yours."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Chapter 23</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry poked Draco in the shoulder. "Malfoy," he said.</p>
<p>Draco took a long sip of his coffee, his attention on the evidence wall and the additions Cotterill and Choudhury had made to it while he was on compassionate leave. They had tracked the activities of all the previous victims, and laid out timelines and small movement maps for each. They'd done another round of interviews to see if any stories changed, rerun every report, and even badgered Townsend into walking them through a recreation of each autopsy.</p>
<p>He decided that when he was put in charge of a squad of his own, he'd fight the entire department to keep them.</p>
<p>"Malfoy," Harry repeated. He raised his hand.</p>
<p>"Potter, if you poke me again, I will not be held responsible for my actions," Draco muttered. He turned to face Harry, lifting a brow. "What?"</p>
<p>Harry stared at Draco for several seconds before taking off his glasses, cleaning the lenses on his shirt, and replacing them to continue staring. "It's true," he said, eyes widening. "I've been hearing rumbles about this all day. I didn't believe it, had to witness it myself, but it's true."</p>
<p>"What are you on about?"</p>
<p>Harry pointed to the center of Draco's chest. "You. Are wearing. A blue tie."</p>
<p>Draco glanced down, smoothing his hand over the silk. "Yes?"</p>
<p>"It's blue."</p>
<p>"Yes. Do you not remember? Hermione bought it for me for my last birthday. Thought it went well with this." Draco tapped his black waistcoat. </p>
<p>"It's <em>blue</em>!"</p>
<p>Draco turned back to the evidence wall. "Dark blue." He hid a grin in his coffee cup as Harry sputtered. The look on Harry's face had been well worth the change to his usual black, white, and hints-of-green outfits. After Hermione had left the Manor the previous evening, Draco had located the tie, still in its box, in the drawer where he'd put it after his birthday. Something had told him it was time for him to add one more color to his wardrobe.</p>
<p>"You're a dick, Auror Sergeant Malfoy." Harry dropped into a chair and examined the evidence wall, drumming his fingers on the table. </p>
<p>"Full marks for observation, Head Auror Potter."</p>
<p>Harry stopped himself from flicking two fingers at Draco as Cotterill came into the conference room with a steaming mug from the department canteen. Choudhury was behind her with a matching mug and a half-empty box of doughnuts. They took seats at the long table. "Afternoon, Head Auror. Welcome back, Sarge. Nice tie."</p>
<p>"Thanks," Draco said. He claimed his chair and a doughnut. "I spent the morning going over everything you've done while I was out," he said. "Excellent work. I see you've charted the activities of each of the victims in the month before they were discovered. Thoughts?"</p>
<p>"Boring, really. They go to work, they go home," Choudhury said. "They all have a routine and they stick to it. But none of them have anything in common that we've been able to find. Still can't determine how the killer chose them, unless it was random."</p>
<p>"Time of death point to any possibilities?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>Choudhury shook her head. "Townsend says it's too varied. Because they were all found outdoors and naked, environmental factors, weather and the like, affect body temperature too much and there's additional evidence of magical interference slowing signs of decomposition such as rigor mortis and putrefaction. Could have been killed hours before they were found, could have been a day or more. She can't give us a better timeframe than that."</p>
<p>"They all went missing—no," Draco corrected himself. "They were all reported missing before they were found. But not all of them were reported as soon as they disappeared."</p>
<p>Cotterill nodded. "Our third victim, Heather Slingsby, for example. Her family reported her missing to Muggle authorities three days before she was found, but we determined she'd been missing for four days in total."</p>
<p>Halfway through his second doughnut and still chewing, Draco gestured her to continue.</p>
<p>"She missed her class," Cotterill said. "She took writing classes. Historical things, mostly. She was supposed to be in Wales with a group, immersion writing at Gwrych Castle. The instructor thought she was a no-show and was very clear there were no refunds on the deposit."</p>
<p>"They went missing anywhere from one to five days before death," Choudhury said. "At some point, they all broke their routines for a special event, and that's when they disappeared."</p>
<p>Draco nodded as Harry gave him a raised brow. When he'd been looking over the evidence wall, Draco had spotted the change in the movement maps and timelines, but wanted the trainees to reach the same conclusion he had already made.</p>
<p>"They all broke routine," Choudhury repeated. She got up and went to the evidence wall, looking at each of the victims in turn. "Madison, scheduled for a closing shift at the restaurant because she would be getting back late the day before from a small science fiction convention in Leeds. But she never actually attended. Ellen, spa weekend, never checked in to the hotel. Heather, writing class in Wales, didn't show. Gwen, went to Cornwall for a Gilbert and Sullivan celebration, which, by the way, her boyfriend completely forgot and then complained about when I mentioned it, hates musicals or something. If he didn't have an alibi, I'd bring him in for more questioning just on the basis of being a—"</p>
<p>Draco cleared his throat, murmuring 'topic' under his breath.</p>
<p>Choudhury grimaced. "Right. Regardless, never used her ticket. And last vic, Gemma, landscaping conference, didn't pick up her badge."</p>
<p>"They all were supposed to be on trips. Away for a couple of days, by themselves." Draco turned back to the table and the scattered notes and files. "Were these all planned breaks in the routine?"</p>
<p>Cotterill nodded. "They'd been talking about it. Family, coworkers, even shop clerks. They all told at least one person, so it wasn't private information. But it explains why they weren't necessarily reported missing right away. No one was expecting them to be where they usually were." She tapped one nail on her mug. "So if, as we suspect, the killer tracks the victims, follows them around, he could easily have overheard them talking about their plans and known when they'd be alone. For all we know, they told him directly."</p>
<p>"I wouldn't think twice about it," Choudhury said. "Say I'm waiting for my turn at the post office, bloke behind me in the queue strikes up a conversation. Oh, I heard it was going to be raining this weekend, he says, and I say I hope not in Kent! I have plans to go see the cathedral."</p>
<p>"Oh, fascinating," Cotterill said, putting on a false, deeper voice. "Going with anyone?"</p>
<p>"No, this is just for me," Choudhury replied. She turned to Draco. "And there it is. He knows where I'm going to be and that I'll be alone."</p>
<p>Harry stole the last doughnut from the box and brushed chopped nuts off the top of it. "Sounds like you have it in hand," he said as he stood. "Keep me posted."</p>
<p>Once he'd left, Draco refilled his coffee and walked along the evidence wall, turning over everything he knew about the case. He shuffled through his memories, mentally scanning over the information he'd read and seen. Harry's 'keep me posted' had sparked something, and Draco brought it to the front of his mind. "Newspaper," he said abruptly. </p>
<p>He pulled a photograph from one of the files. It was of an 'of interest' article cut from a newspaper, stuck to the refrigerator in Heather Slingsby's home. It was like every other group report he'd skipped over in newspapers for years, with names, anecdotes, and notes from participants. The article was short and the print small in the photo, but he'd remembered the logo at the top of the article, an owl holding a letter and a book. Draco tapped the photo with his wand, expanding the image.</p>
<p>The words were fuzzy and hard to read, but he slipped on his glasses and peered at them closely. "Muggle-born Literary Society book club welcomes new members Ellen Donaldson, Nigel Murtree, and Daniel Kimble," he read aloud. "Yearly membership, seven Galleons for fees. Send name and address with payment to Gringotts Bank, care of MLS account manager."</p>
<p>He looked up. "Donaldson was a member, and Slingsby either was, or was thinking about it, if she had this up as a reminder."</p>
<p>Cotterill and Choudhury both immediately grabbed their interview books, flipping through pages and scanning their notes. Choudhury spoke first. "Gemma Parker's husband said she signed up for a quote, 'book something or other', but lost interest'."</p>
<p>"Madison Riley's coworkers said she was always reading on breaks," Cotterill said. </p>
<p>"And I imagine that if we had a membership list in front of us, every one of our victims would be on it," Draco said, drumming his fingers on the table. </p>
<p>"Which means our next victim might be," Choudhury said. </p>
<p>Draco nodded. "Tomorrow you two can go back to the victims' residences, go through every bit of post, every letter, every—"</p>
<p>"Um, Sarge?" Choudhury leaned forward. "Can't tomorrow. Potions and poisons exam?"</p>
<p>"Right." Draco laughed ruefully under his breath. "And you'll both be reeling from the potions, if not in hospital from the poisons. Never mind. Get to it as soon as you can."</p>
<p>"What did they get you with?" Cotterill asked. "Only I've heard some of the potions can be nastier than the poisons." </p>
<p>"I had an advantage," he said, tapping his nose. "Tip for you, go for the one that smells like raspberries and cream. Technically a poison, but it's one of the least toxic, and if you have chamomile tea before going in, no side effects."</p>
<p>He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his forehead. "I'll still need tomorrow to catch up on everything I've missed. I'll go to Gringotts on Wednesday, find out everything I can about the MLS account and its officers. I can get the names of everyone in charge. From there, we can get a membership list." </p>
<p>"Gringotts?" Cotterill said. "Getting information out of the bank, that's—"</p>
<p>"That's a job for the man who has one of the largest vaults they ever built," Draco said. "Unless they'd like to see me move my accounts, <em>all</em> my accounts, to Banque Magique de Paris, they'll talk to me."</p>
<hr/>
<p>When she'd spotted him at the Ministry the day before, she'd almost dropped her files. She'd bought the tie for his birthday the previous summer. It had caught her eye in the shop and while it had been a bit out of her price range, she'd gone for it. There was a subtle shimmer in it that reminded her of the way his eyes shone when he laughed. </p>
<p>She'd bought it for him but she'd never expected that he'd actually wear it, because she knew his wardrobe. Black, white, grey, occasionally a tiny bit of green. Blue was not one of his choices. The purchase had been impulsive, and she'd expected it was wasted money, but she'd done it regardless.</p>
<p>Then he'd worn it, and she'd decided it was the best money she had ever spent in her life. Her gift, her favorite color, her mark on him.</p>
<p>But as much as she loved seeing him in the tie she'd bought, she loved even more that he'd worn that black cashmere jumper to dinner. She'd taken every chance she had to feel it, remembering how much she'd wanted to the night they'd first discussed going undercover as a couple. Now, as a real couple, she could touch him to her heart's content. Sitting on his lap in the front room of the townhouse, she couldn't stop herself from stroking his chest as she kissed him.</p>
<p>"You're incorrigible," she heard from behind her.</p>
<p>Draco slowly pulled away from Hermione's kiss and gave her a wink. "Problem, Potter?" he asked.</p>
<p>"It's bad enough that I know what you two are doing," Harry said, collecting the remainder of the after-dinner coffee cups to take to the kitchen. "Do you have to do it in front of me?"</p>
<p>"I don't believe you have any of the high ground," Hermione said archly. "Since this past Sunday it was you who was Mister 'Oh, Hermione, we didn't expect you home so soon, oh god, so sorry, where are my pants'. At least we keep our public displays to the club," she called after him as he blushed and retreated. Hermione grinned and settled back against the arm of the oversized chair. She took Draco's hand to lace their fingers together as she draped her legs over one of his thighs.</p>
<p>"Speaking of the club," Draco said, lowering his voice. "I thought we might go this Friday."</p>
<p>"Friday? But that's Remembrance Day. Ten years, Draco, there'll be—oh." He'd lifted his brows, a flash of pain across his face. Hermione closed her eyes. Remembrance Day commemorated the end of the war, a war where he'd served—been forced to serve—on the wrong side. There would be speeches, memorials, and more, and at every one, someone would celebrate the end of the Death Eaters and the defeat of Voldemort.</p>
<p>She could already imagine it. Could imagine him stiff and blank-faced, pupils contracted to pinpricks as he walled off his memories.</p>
<p>Hermione stroked the back of his neck. "Talk to me," she murmured. "Tell me how you're feeling."</p>
<p>"I'm allowed," he said, his voice barely louder than a breath. Clearing his throat, he let out a slow exhale. "I don't like to be in public on that day in particular," he said. "It's unpleasant. People ... stare." </p>
<p>He pushed his sleeve up, exposing the black lines of the Dark Mark. "They look for this. They wait until I pass them and they whisper about the Dark Lord and his servants and our crimes. It's not—" His voice softened. "I'll never fully escape it, Hermione, and it's harder on Remembrance Day. Standing there alone."</p>
<p>"You wouldn't be," she said immediately. She settled her hand on his wrist, her fingers resting just below the head of the snake branded into his forearm. "I'll be standing with you, if you go. Having someone there who is unequivocally on your side, that has to help."</p>
<p>He hummed under his breath. "Maybe." Draco looked into her eyes, then touched his forehead to hers. "I love you," he whispered.</p>
<p>Hermione's heart thudded. He'd said it over and over the previous weekend, and each time it had burned through her, as sharp and hot as the feeling of his Apparition. <i>I love you</i>. She knew it was one of the most open and dangerous things he could say. Even his confessions and his terrors hadn't left him as vulnerable to hurt. She wasn't surprised that he'd had to hear her say it first before he could accept it; she'd been surprised that he'd been able to return the words so easily. It must have terrified him to break down that particular wall.</p>
<p>But when he had, it had thrilled her. It had left her wanting to hear it and say it back every moment of their lives. He loved her. She loved him. </p>
<p>Hermione sat quietly, letting him work through his thoughts, letting him feel safe, showing her love by giving him time to make his choice.</p>
<p>After a moment, he lifted his head, raised their joined hands, and kissed her fingers. "No. I don't want to go. I hate it, Hermione. And frankly, having you with me would make things worse this year. Do you think for one minute that we wouldn't be hounded by every reporter in England, wanting a quote from one of the heroines of the war? Miss Granger, how <em>is</em> your relationship with the last free Death Eater? Does he ever wear his mask in bed? Do you?"</p>
<p>"Stop," Hermione said, her throat tightening. She knew how much Draco had changed since the war, how much he regretted everything he'd done, but over the past few months, she'd been getting a clearer picture of how many people knew nothing about him. And, she acknowledged silently, how many people still hated him. There had been that maitre d', Archibald, who'd spit on him at the restaurant, but he wasn't the only one. Hermione had seen people crossing the street to avoid walking near Draco, had heard nasty whispers from people whenever they'd been together.</p>
<p>But he had friends. He had allies. He had people who liked him, trusted him. And he had her.</p>
<p>Hermione twisted on his lap, tucking her feet down the side of the chair, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "I love you," she said. She kissed the corner of his mouth and rested her forehead on his cheek. "I didn't fall in love with a Death Eater. I fell in love with a man who made mistakes, <em>serious</em> mistakes, but who's done everything he can to make up for them. With an Auror who's saved life after life."</p>
<p>Lifting her head, she looked into his eyes. "I fell for a good man. A man who is fully capable of kindness and generosity and love."</p>
<p>Draco settled both arms around her, holding her on his lap. "Maybe so," he said quietly. "But even with that, Hermione, I—" He drifted off and shook his head.</p>
<p>"Then I understand. You don't have to go. You don't have to do anything."</p>
<p>He shook underneath her, as if he'd muffled a laugh or a snort. Hermione tipped her head. "What?"</p>
<p>"I do, actually. There's one place I still have to go. Someone I have to tell in person about Mum."</p>
<p>Hermione furrowed her brows. She looked down as she felt Draco's hands moving, saw him rub his fingers over his signet ring. "Your father," she whispered. "Oh. Oh, Draco. No. I'm sure he's been informed by now. You don't have to go back there."</p>
<p>"It's my responsibility. I have to tell him."</p>
<p>"You haven't spoken to him in a decade. Not even so much as a letter. You told me that yourself. Not to mention the way he treated you even before the war. You don't owe him anything. God, Draco, why would you care about a man who—who." Her voice caught as she remembered the things Draco had whispered to her as they lay curled up in his bed. "The man who beat you? Who broke your shoulder?"</p>
<p>"I'm his son. I wasn't—I didn't. I disobeyed. He had the right—" Draco's voice tightened, his pupils widening. </p>
<p>Hermione instinctively put her fingers on the back of his neck, rubbing the taut muscle at the base of his skull as he fell into whatever memory had caught him. She crooned to him, reminding him that he was with her. </p>
<p>After a few moments, Draco blinked and took a deep breath, the tension in his face easing. He folded his arms around Hermione, resting his chin on her shoulder and nestling into her hair. "I need to go," he murmured. "You're right, I don't owe him anything. And I don't <em>have</em> to go. But I need to do this. I need to look him in the eye and tell him that my mother is dead."</p>
<p>And that she was free of him, Hermione thought. Even if Draco wasn't. She kept that to herself and nodded to acknowledge what he'd said. "All right. I won't argue. It's your choice."</p>
<p>She stroked his hair as he relaxed, then kissed his temple. "I know we weren't planning to spend tonight together. But—" She stopped herself. They had spent so much of the previous weekend alternating between talking and making love that neither of them had gotten much rest. She'd managed to get a few hours Monday night, but still needed to catch up. She'd rather been looking forward to a good night's sleep.</p>
<p>But she was afraid that worrying about Remembrance Day, combined with the memories of his father, would drop him into nightmares and broken sleep, and she didn't want him to deal with that alone. </p>
<p>"But every time we're in the same bed, we don't sleep much?" Draco said with a small smile. "If you want to stay here, not to worry. I can sleep by myself, Hermione. Done that for years. Very experienced at it, actually."</p>
<p>"I just want to be sure you'd be all right."</p>
<p>"I'd be fine," Draco said quietly. "But I appreciate that you worry about me. Makes me feel good to know I'm still on your list." He grinned at her. "Besides, maybe I want to sleep alone tonight. Spread out in my giant bed and not have to listen to you complaining at how tall it is. Or lose all my blankets in the middle of the night."</p>
<p>She made a face at him as he laughed. "Prat," she said, tightening her arms around his shoulders. "Just for that, you're taking me home and we are doing absolutely nothing but sleep in that unnecessarily large bed of yours. I will steal every blanket you have and you'll like it."</p>
<p>Draco hooked one arm under her legs and pushed out of the chair, holding her steady as he rose. "I insist on snoring, then."</p>
<p>"Fine. We'll negotiate morning sex after sleep." Hermione clung to him as he carried her into the fireplace. She kissed his cheek as she grabbed a handful of Floo powder and flung it down. "Malfoy Manor."</p>
<hr/>
<p>Draco's planned visit to Gringotts was cancelled by a sleepy-voiced dispatch alert from his badge at four the next morning.</p>
<p>"Malfoy, Draco Lucius. Respond."</p>
<p>Draco groaned and rolled over, the framed photographs tumbling to the floor as he groped for his badge on the bedside table. "Malfoy here," he muttered, dropping the badge beside Hermione to sling his arm over her waist. </p>
<p>The dispatcher reported that a body had been found in a small wizarding cemetery near Ripon, discovered by a pre-dawn jogger, and he was requested on scene. He acknowledged the call and informed them he'd be there within the hour.</p>
<p>Hermione turned onto her back with a yawn. "No morning sex then," she mumbled as she rubbed her eyes. She grimaced, wriggled, and pulled his badge from under her hip.</p>
<p>Draco snorted. "Afraid not." He stood and stretched, his shoulder popping. "I'll have Mrs Derieva wake you in a couple of hours. Don't want you to be late for work."</p>
<p>She sat up and beckoned him to her side of the bed. When he did, she kissed him fiercely, fingers sliding down his chest to push down the waistband of his pyjama bottoms. She stroked him and nibbled across his mouth before ducking to swipe her tongue up the length of his cock. "Little something to keep you going," she said, pulling away.</p>
<p>Draco blinked. "Nng. 'kay." </p>
<p>Her giggles followed him into the bathroom, and she was asleep again by the time he emerged from the shower. Draco dressed quietly and bent down to kiss her temple before he left. "I love you," he whispered to her.</p>
<p>The lightning crack of his landing in Ripon echoed off the headstones of the cemetery. The sunrise turned the yellow bubble of the crime scene to a pale gold. When he stepped through, the techs on the scene froze, throwing him worried glances, then returned to their work with deliberate and obvious attempts not to look at him.</p>
<p>"Nowak," Draco snapped. "What do we have?"</p>
<p>One of the techs slumped, then trudged over. "Female, mid to late twenties," Nowak said. "Rope marks, same as the others."</p>
<p>"Wonderful." Draco sighed. He'd hoped this had been another mistake and that he could return to his warm bed and even warmer girlfriend. "Definitely my shout, then?"</p>
<p>"Looks that way, but um. But. There's something." The tech glanced over his shoulder at the group surrounding the body. "You should probably, um. Brace yourself for this one?"</p>
<p>"I didn't get much sleep, Nowak, and I got called in before coffee. Don't annoy me. I've seen plenty of bodies in my time."</p>
<p>Nowak avoided Draco's eyes. "It's the victim," he said in a low voice. "When we first got on scene, we thought it was—we thought. Sir, the thing is. We thought it was—"</p>
<p>"Spit it out, Nowak."</p>
<p>Nowak scrubbed his face and finally looked up. "Just ... brace yourself, Auror Sergeant."</p>
<p>Draco narrowed his eyes, looking past Nowak at the techs. From this distance, with the people around the body, all he could see was a bare foot. He walked over to the group and one of the techs moved aside to let him see the victim. </p>
<p>Draco inhaled sharply, walls slamming into place in his mind. He curled his fists at his sides and held himself stiff, voice rigidly controlled as he spoke. "Tea break. All of you. Now."</p>
<p>Nowak and the techs scattered, leaving Draco alone with the body. Green-painted toenails, pale shaved legs, a purple scar between small round breasts. Rope marks from hips to shoulders, a thinner set decorating her arms. A silver necklace and rose pendant on her rope-marked neck. Dark curly hair spread across the grass around her. </p>
<p>If he hadn't been intimately familiar with every inch of Hermione's body, if he hadn't left her asleep in his bed only minutes before, he would have thought he was staring at her.</p>
<p>He looked into the victim's face. They had the same shape to their mouths, the same jut of their chins and angle of their cheekbones. Even their brows had the same arch. Despite his determination to keep his thoughts blocked away, his eyes widened and he unconsciously took a step back. The woman was uncomfortably similar to Hermione, enough to make his hands start to shake.</p>
<p>Draco shoved his disquiet away, forcing himself to keep a professional demeanor, and silently cast his glove charm. He tugged at his trouser legs and crouched down, tipping the woman's head to see her eyes. They were deep, dark brown, and even beneath the cloudiness of death, he could see a few gold flecks in her irises. </p>
<p>He ground his teeth, shoving another wall into place in his head, and turned to examine her thighs. He pushed them apart gently and found the bruise on the inside of her right thigh, a dark splotch surrounding the cuts he expected. VI. </p>
<p>Draco bent his head and took a slow breath through his nose. Scent of wet grass, dog shit, turned-over dirt. He held back a shudder as a hint of violets struck him from the woman's hair, reminding him of the perfume Hermione used to wear. He ordered himself to focus on the scents he needed to verify the final part of the killer's signature. </p>
<p>All three were there. Cedar, leather, ashes.</p>
<p>Draco closed the woman's eyes and stood, his gloves dissolving into smoke. "Confirmed," he said. "She's my sixth victim."</p>
<p>One of the techs came over, steaming tea cup in hand. "Weird, innit," he said. "How much she looks like—"</p>
<p>"I cannot begin to explain how little interest I have in discussing the victim's resemblance to my girlfriend," Draco said, his voice dropping into a growl.</p>
<p>The tech shrugged and slurped his tea. "Just so long as you're sure it ain't her."</p>
<p>Draco looked down at the body. "No. Hermione's scar is different. It's not her."</p>
<p>He turned on his heel and strode to the table at the far side of the crime scene, snatching up one of the leaky pens to begin filling out the necessary forms. He concentrated on accuracy and legibility, on the bare facts of the scene.</p>
<p>It didn't help. </p>
<p>They were supposed to be luring the killer out, flaunting their relationship, deliberately showing off themselves as a pure-blood and Muggle-born couple. And if he didn't catch the man, if he failed yet again, the next body in the grass wouldn't just look like Hermione. It might actually be her.</p>
<p>She might be the one lying there naked, evidence of ropes around her torso and arms, her throat marked from strangulation. Draco couldn't stop imagining the scene, from thinking of himself crouched next to her body, black gloves on his hands as he checked her thighs for Roman numerals, as he leaned over her to smell the signature of the murderer beneath the jasmine and amber scents of Hermione. </p>
<p>He knew he wouldn't be permitted, that regulations would forbid him from having anything to do with it. He'd be taken off the case, shunted aside, and ordered not to interfere. But he couldn't stop imagining it. The thought rolled through his head no matter how much he tried to halt it.</p>
<p>This woman, this victim, looked like Hermione and that made it <em>personal</em> to Draco. The killer knew Draco was after him and knew that the net was tightening. This woman had been murdered as a warning, a deliberate taunt. </p>
<p>
  <i>Keep coming after me, and I'll come after someone special to you.</i>
</p>
<p>The flimsy pen snapped in his fist. </p>
<p>Draco cursed under his breath, staring down at the blue ink staining his fingers. No, he told himself as he drew his wand to clean his hands. He disposed of the ruined form and started a new one, head bent over it to avoid looking at the body as the techs removed it from the scene. </p>
<p>No. Hermione would never be on a gurney, her eyes dulled in death. He wouldn't allow it. He'd promised to protect her, to keep her safe, and he would keep that promise. He wouldn't fail again. He would keep the woman he loved <em>safe</em>, no matter what he had to do.</p>
<hr/>
<p>He spent the remainder of the week with Cotterill and Choudhury, going over the case, adding information about the sixth victim. The altered routines of the previous victims led them to expect the same for this one, and they'd been right. There had been a tour group arriving at Fountains Abbey Wednesday afternoon, and when he'd shown the leader a photograph, she'd identified the woman as Mary Cording, who'd failed to check in at the start of the tour on Tuesday.</p>
<p>Cotterill and Choudhury split up to locate and interview any friends and family they could find. Draco stayed at the office late into the night, pacing along the evidence wall, rearranging notes, and trying his best not to stare at the face of a dead woman who looked like his girlfriend's twin sister. He knew he had to inform Hermione, but he was putting it off as long as he could. If he didn't see her until the weekend, he wouldn't have to tell her the warning the killer had given them.</p>
<p>It almost made him grateful, once he was standing on the ramshackle dock at the edge of the North Sea Friday morning, that he was going to Azkaban. He could blame his uneasiness on the cold, grim walls of the prison. </p>
<p>As an Auror, even one out of uniform and on a personal visit, he didn't need to go through the long vetting and approval process to set foot on the island and enter the prison but he was still checked carefully to ensure he was who he claimed. One of the guards stationed at the entrance thought it would be a great joke to haul out Draco's prisoner record. "Let's see if he matches," the guard said, elbowing his unamused partner.</p>
<p>Draco waited until the chortling faded out, then slowly tugged down his collar and exposed the identification code tattooed into his neck. He recited the runes and numbers and, without looking away from the guard, slammed his badge onto the counter. "Auror Sergeant Draco Lucius Malfoy," he snarled. "Here to see prisoner Malfoy, Lucius Abraxas."</p>
<p>"Biggs, go organize some pencils," the other guard said flatly. Once Biggs had stomped off, rolling his eyes, the man turned back to Draco. "Deputy Warden Givens," he said, holding his hand out. "Sorry about that."</p>
<p>"Not the worst screw I came across here," Draco said. He shook hands and retrieved his badge, stuffing it into his pocket and attaching a silver visitor's key to his heavy jumper. He'd dressed far too warmly for the second of May, but he remembered how cold he had always been during his two years in the prison. Even the flickers of memory made his bones ache from phantom chills.</p>
<p>He followed Deputy Warden Givens into the narrow corridors. At the bottom of one set of stairs, Draco automatically turned left, then realized there was no one ahead of him. He backtracked and gave a rueful nod to Givens. "My cell was that way," he said.</p>
<p>Givens raised his brows but gave no other response. They went through a section of the prison Draco didn't know, the corridors widening and brightening, then into a round room with an open spiral staircase that rose around a central column. </p>
<p>Draco followed Givens up the stairs. His right arm pressed close to the column from the narrow spiral and he knew the design was intentional. Most people were right-handed and an attacker coming from below would be forced to fight with his off-hand. Aurors were generally trained to be ambidextrous, though, because injuries were so common. He could duel with his left, if he needed.</p>
<p>Givens settled into a wooden chair by the door. "Third one down," he said. "Shout if you need something."</p>
<p>Draco walked down the center of the wide corridor to a well-lit cell. He felt his hands curling into fists as he looked in, a pounding of anger setting up in his temples. He remembered his cell: the metal cot, the bare walls, the cold stone floor. Night after night of shivering on a thin mattress, nothing to hear but screams and the howl of the wind.</p>
<p>Not here. Not this cell.</p>
<p>Behind the bars was a cozy room, lit with several lamps. A narrow bed was made up with plush blankets and pillows; a wireless stood beside a tall cabinet full of wine bottles and food supplies. Two shelves attached to the wall were stuffed full of books and a thick Persian rug covered the floor. Next to a small radiator was a heavy leather armchair. It was a comfortable room for anyone, but for a prisoner, it was outright luxury.</p>
<p>Draco ground his teeth, staring at the chair's occupant. "Father," he said.</p>
<p>Lucius lifted a wine glass from the table by his elbow and took a long drink without looking up from the newspaper. "There's a rather good piece about a carnival in Slough next weekend," he said. "Thirty-seven years. Amazing how people can keep these things going for so long."</p>
<p>"Father," Draco said again.</p>
<p>Lucius took another drink before putting the glass down. He folded the paper and set it on the table, then adjusted the lapels of the quilted dressing gown he wore over his striped uniform shirt and trousers. He looked Draco up and down, the hint of a sneer curling his mouth. "One would think a man with your height would have better posture," he finally said. "Though perhaps that slouch is due to your lack of a spine."</p>
<p>Draco took a deep breath. He filled his mind with the scent of jasmine and kept a rigid control on his temper, amber-mortared walls holding his frustration back. "I have something to tell you, Father."</p>
<p>"Father." Lucius snorted. "If you had resembled me even slightly less, I would suspect you of being sired by some other man. <em>My</em> son would never have turned his back on me, leaving me to rot in this hellhole."</p>
<p>Draco looked around the cell and raised a brow. "Hellhole. Right. Even if it were, you brought this on yourself. You were a Death Eater."</p>
<p>"As were you!" Lucius gripped the arms of his chair, his knuckles whitening. "But you never deserved that honor, despite my efforts. You were a puling little weakling and I did my best to strengthen you. I did everything I could to turn you into a <em>man</em>, a man ready to take on the mantle of power, and you threw it away. If you had followed the Dark Lord with the fervor and devotion of his true companions, this world would be ours. And it is not. You failed. I tried with you, boy, I tried. I tried to make you understand your duty, your responsibilities to our bloodline. And you still failed. I should have beaten you more."</p>
<p>Draco closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, pushing away memories. He listened to a softer voice in his thoughts, Hermione's murmurs of safety and love. He concentrated on her warmth in his mind. </p>
<p>When he opened his eyes, Lucius was sneering at him. "Not even a response in your own defense. Exactly what I would expect from you. I blame the Black ancestry in you and those blood traitors in their line. Your weakness comes from your mother."</p>
<p>"Mother is dead." He'd intended to say that more kindly, to broach the subject with some grace, but the look in his father's eyes had him aching to be done with it all. </p>
<p>Lucius gave a cold laugh. "I am aware. It took you nearly two weeks to inform me? What was the difficulty? Afraid they might return you to your cell if you came here?" He rose from his chair and approached the bars, his face twisting in a vicious smile. "Or were you busy moving your little whore into my house?"</p>
<p>Draco inhaled sharply and Lucius laughed again. He wrapped both hands around the bars and bared his teeth. "Oh, yes. I am aware of her as well. I've read about your secret romance in the papers. Not so secret anymore, is it? You're rather open about it now. Blatant, even. Tell me, Draco. Did your mother die from a broken heart over discovering your deviancy or did you kill her yourself to get her out of the way?"</p>
<p>Draco stiffened. "Mother approved of my relationship. Her last word was Hermione's name. She gave us her blessing."</p>
<p>"A blessing from a woman with a broken mind is not worth the breath. Relationship." Lucius spit on the floor. "Degeneracy and perversion. I have not touched a woman in a decade and I still would slit my own throat before I stuck my cock in a Mudblood slut's filthy cunt. You know what that makes <em>you</em>."</p>
<p>Draco felt heat rising in his cheeks. His fingers flexed at his sides. "Blood traitor," he said. "Mud-fucker. And proud of it."</p>
<p>Lucius stared at him, a hint of shock entering his face. "You take <em>pride</em> in your fall? I shouldn't have beaten you as a child. I should have drowned you, Draco Malfoy."</p>
<p>Draco's thoughts whirled. He could shout at his father, fling insults and hate at him. He could draw his wand and attack, curse Lucius until he was screaming on the floor. Lucius was trapped, alone and defenseless, and Draco could do anything he liked without fear of reprisal. He had the opportunity to extract payment for every wrong of his childhood, for every pain.</p>
<p>He could do to his father exactly what Lucius had done to him. He could have revenge.</p>
<p>For a moment, he considered it, but he heard his own voice in his thoughts. <i>I made my choice, Hermione. I made the right choice.</i></p>
<p>He considered revenge, and he made another choice.</p>
<p>"<em>Auror Sergeant</em> Draco Malfoy." He straightened to his full height, staring down at his father. At a miserable, powerless man, who couldn't hurt him ever again. "Kings rise, emperors fall, and the Malfoys remain standing. Do you remember saying that to me? I do. I remember every damned word you've ever said to me. I remember every insult, every blow. And I am <em>still</em> standing."</p>
<p>"You have always been a disappointment and a failure," Lucius said waspishly.</p>
<p>"I'm not going to die in prison," Draco replied. "Seems you're the failure."</p>
<p>"I could weep for the way you speak to me."</p>
<p>"Show no weakness. Show no pain. A Malfoy does not cry."</p>
<p>Lucius narrowed his eyes. He sniffed and returned to his chair. Wine splashed over his fingers as he grabbed his glass. "So, what do you intend next, <em>Auror</em> Malfoy? Going to have me assassinated in my sleep here? Remove the blot on the family name?"</p>
<p>"No. I'm going to ensure that you have decades yet. Good food, good wine, the best furnishings and medical care I can buy." He smiled sharply. "And I can buy so very much. I'll make sure the next fifty years are the most comfortable ones you've ever had."</p>
<p>Lucius threw his glass across his cell.</p>
<p>Draco watched the red wine drip down the stone wall and soak into the exquisite rug. "Farewell, Father," he said with a bow. "Enjoy what you have left of your life. I love Hermione, and I'm <em>happy</em> with her, so I'm certainly going to enjoy mine."</p>
<p>He strode away without looking back.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Chapter 24</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione slumped into the chair next to Harry's desk and kicked her shoes off. "Draco had the right idea," she announced to the ceiling. "Skip the Remembrance Day events. Go to Azkaban instead. Bet he had a better day."</p>
<p>Harry took her hand, put a glass of Firewhiskey in it, and patted her shoulder. "You handled it well," he said, circling his desk to thump into his chair. He put his feet up on the desk and leaned back, groaning as he undid his tie. "You managed not to hex anyone, at least, so I'm counting that as a win."</p>
<p>"I was tempted. God knows, I was tempted." Hermione examined the Firewhiskey. She considered sipping it, then shrugged and bolted half of it in one swallow. Wiping her chin with her sleeve, she sighed. "You watered that down."</p>
<p>"I expected you were going to chug it." Harry pushed the bottle across his desk with one heel. "But seriously, Hermione, you handled it well. Even when that one twat started in about you dating Malfoy, you held it together."</p>
<p>"I don't think calling him an abscess on the perineum of journalism was really holding it together."</p>
<p>"He had it coming. And he's hard of hearing, so when he asked me what you said, I enthusiastically told him you called him a success at the pinnacle of journalism. I may have overdone it. Think I sprained his fingers when I shook his hand."</p>
<p>Hermione snorted and curled her legs underneath her, holding her glass in both hands. "At least I didn't have to give a speech. You looked like you were being dragged to the gallows when you walked up there. But you spoke well. Very fluid."</p>
<p>"I'm not surprised. I've given that exact speech four times. No one ever pays attention. They just cheer for the Chosen One, have a moment of silence for the fallen, and then look around for the drinks table." Harry took off his glasses and tossed them on the desk to rub his eyes. "I'm hoping now that it's been ten years we can stop having annual events. Keep the day on the calendar all they want, but maybe cut the speeches and rosettes and bands down to every five years."</p>
<p>"I was glad Draco wasn't there," Hermione said after a moment. "Every year they name the Death Eaters and ring a bell for each one. Bellatrix Lestrange, dead, bell rings, crowd cheers. Amycus Carrow, imprisoned, bell rings, crowd cheers. So on and so forth, all the way down the list from the first war on. And the last one, Draco Malfoy." She shook her head. "And everyone goes silent. No bell, no cheer. Because he's alive. And free."</p>
<p>She refilled her whiskey glass. "But this year, they didn't say his name. He's off the Dark wizard list, his photo is gone from the wall, and they didn't say his name and everyone looked at <em>me</em>. I know they were looking for him." She remembered the previous year, when they read the names. Draco had been standing there, his face completely still. Head up, spine straight, hands behind his back. He was the perfect illustration of 'at ease', straight out of the Auror's training book. He didn't look away from the Minister for even a second.</p>
<p>She took a long drink. "And <em>now</em> I know how uncomfortable he was. How many years has he stood there, listening to the silence?"</p>
<p>How many years had he stood with his face calm, the Malfoy mask firmly in place? Knowing that everyone was turning to look at him, knowing that everyone was trying to see through his sleeve to the faded Dark Mark burned into his arm. Hearing his name read out as a Dark wizard, a Death Eater. She'd always felt somewhat sorry for him during the reading of the names, and now—</p>
<p>Now she knew what he hid every year, his memories in a whirl beneath his blank face, his heart pounding behind his calm stance. She suspected he desperately wished he could join the crowd in that moment, cheering when the bells rang. Maybe not for his father, but for Bellatrix. Of all of them, all the attendees, all the survivors, he had <em>reason</em> to celebrate that death. </p>
<p>Hermione knew exactly why he hated his aunt. The morning he'd curled his arms around her and whispered his history into her hair, he'd told her about the lessons, the training, the punishments. He'd been unable to say Bella's name without his voice catching. He'd hated his father, loathed Voldemort, but he'd feared Bellatrix. Hermione didn't blame him for keeping those memories locked up in his mind. </p>
<p>She wished she'd been able to be as blank-faced that morning. When the Minister skipped Draco's name at the reading, the crowd's whispers might as well have been screams. She could still hear the rustle as people turned to look at her and the empty chair beside her, feel the weight of a hundred stares, the flash of a camera, and Rita Skeeter's malicious smile. </p>
<p>Hermione pushed her thoughts away, returning her attention to Harry, who had been talking while she drifted.</p>
<p>"—skipping out this time. He's gone through a lot this year. His promotion, his mum's death. Started dating you. Started horrifying me. The things I've been forced to see." Harry made a face. "And hear. And then there's that whole business with the most recent victim. I don't think I could have stayed professional on scene if the vic in one of my cases looked even half as much like Pansy."</p>
<p>Hermione stopped, the whiskey glass against her lips. "What?"</p>
<p>"It would have been bad enough if she'd just looked a little bit like you, but she could be your sister. Matching scar, even. Nowak said he'd never seen Malfoy go that pale, and when it comes to <em>Malfoy</em>? That's fucking pale."</p>
<p>Hermione slammed her glass on the desk, ignoring the whiskey that splashed over the blotter. "<em>What</em>?!"</p>
<p>Harry slowly lifted his head, his eyes widening. "Malfoy ... didn't tell you?"</p>
<p>Hermione stood up, leaned on the desk, and stared into Harry's face. "I know you're not wearing your glasses, so my expression is bound to be blurry. But I promise you, it is not a happy expression. It's not happy at all."</p>
<p>"I thought you knew al—"</p>
<p>"Harry James Potter."</p>
<p>Harry folded his arms over his chest and sank into his chair. "Even blurry, you're terrifying, you know." He closed his eyes. "The victim discovered on Wednesday looks like you, Hermione. Same hair, same eyes, same height. She has a scar on her chest. If you don't have an unknown sister out there, then the killer went to some effort to find someone who resembles you."</p>
<p>Hermione curled her fingers, her nails scratching over the desk. She swallowed. She hadn't really spoken much to Draco since he'd left the bed Wednesday. A brief greeting in the Ministry atrium Thursday morning, a stolen kiss in an empty corridor later that afternoon. He'd seemed distracted, and she'd assumed it was because of his plans to visit Lucius. Other than their quick interactions, she'd left him mostly alone. She knew he was busy with the case and she'd had a lot to do in the archives. She hadn't even gone into the conference room where he had all his casework set out. </p>
<p>Inhaling sharply, she pushed away from Harry's desk, shoved her feet into her shoes, and rushed out of the office. In the conference room, she went straight to the evidence wall and the newest photograph on it. </p>
<p>She stared.</p>
<p>If someone told her that was a mirror instead of a photo, she wouldn't have questioned it for a moment. Even with the harsh lighting of the morgue and the stillness of death in the woman's face, the resemblance between them was clear. Worse, to her, it wasn't unexpected.</p>
<p>Hermione stepped closer, her hands coming up unconsciously. She touched the woman's chest scar in the photo and touched her own through her shirt. It wasn't accurate, but it was close. Townsend's autopsy report indicated it had been magically created, put on the woman after her death. Hermione stepped back and looked at the woman again sadly as she heard someone come into the room behind her. </p>
<p>"I know who this is," she said without turning around. "Mary Cording. She's an actress. She wrote to me a few months ago. " She touched the photo again. "She was auditioning to play me in a documentary and wanted to know if we could meet. We had lunch a couple of times and I let her take a photo. But I felt so uncomfortable about it that I didn't take any other meetings. I assumed the production had been cancelled. I'd never heard anything else about it."</p>
<p>"Explains the resemblance, then."</p>
<p>Hermione spun in place, her hand still on her chest. She'd expected Harry but Draco stood behind her in a thick cloak and heavy black jumper, his head bowed as he examined a folder on the table. </p>
<p>She hadn't thought she would see him at the Ministry that day, not after he'd gone to Azkaban to inform Lucius of Narcissa's death. Avoiding the Remembrance Day ceremonies had been most of his reason for picking that day in particular. Hermione started to reach for him, to give him a hug, then she glanced at the evidence wall and the photograph of Mary Cording. </p>
<p>The speeches weren't the only things he'd avoided that week. Now his distance of the previous couple of days seemed less like distraction and more like deliberate attempts to stay away from her. </p>
<p>She narrowed her eyes and turned back to Draco. "When were you going to tell me?"</p>
<p>He glanced sideways at her but didn't respond.</p>
<p>Hermione gritted her teeth. "You've had plenty of chances. It's not as if we haven't seen each other at all since you left Wednesday morning. It's been over forty-eight hours since this body was discovered. You couldn't have said something?" </p>
<p>She pushed his arm, even though she knew she had no hope of forcing him to turn to look at her. It was like shoving a wall. "Are we partners on this case or not? I know you have this entire issue with telling me things even when they directly affect me, but I would have thought you'd bother to mention the <em>mysterious</em> appearance of this victim."</p>
<p>Draco took a long, deep breath. His mouth opened but he didn't speak. He pressed his lips together with a sharp shake of his head and returned his attention to the papers on the table.</p>
<p>Hermione folded her arms across her chest. She shouldn't be surprised at his silence, she knew. It was how he operated. Avoid, deflect, block off and wall away. She understood that certain subjects weren't easy for him and she tried to give him room, tried to be patient with his difficulties. But the shock of seeing a body she recognized, a face that was so close to hers, combined with Draco's avoidance, had her emotions in a whirl. Her heart raced as she stared at him. "Answer me," she insisted. </p>
<p>"Not now." Draco signed one of the forms in a folder and capped the pen with a decisive click.</p>
<p>The sound of the pen closing echoed in Hermione's mind, like her patience had snapped with it. "No, of course not. We can only talk about things on your schedule. When you choose. We're not talking about this, we're not discussing this. Stop talking, Granger, because I decide when you get to speak. God, Draco, I thought you <em>didn't</em> want to be just like your father and here you are."</p>
<p>The words were out before she could stop them. They hung in the air between her and Draco. She took a step back, covering her mouth.</p>
<p>Draco slowly straightened up to his full height. A muscle jumped in his cheek and she saw the skin around his eyes tighten up. She watched as his pupils narrowed down to the smallest pinpricks. She could almost hear the mentals walls slamming into place in his head.</p>
<p>"Draco, I'm sor—"</p>
<p>He walked out without looking at her.</p>
<p><i>"You'll hurt me eventually</i>, she suddenly remembered him saying to her once. <i>You're more capable of it than you realize.</i> </p>
<p>Hermione closed her eyes.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Draco tucked his cigarette in the corner of his mouth, bent over the table, and lined up his shot, focus narrowed entirely to the long cue and the white ball. He glanced through his lashes, verifying the angle, then drew his arm back and smoothly potted the last remaining red ball on the baize.</p>
<p>He straightened and leaned the cue against his shoulder, looking over the table as he adjusted the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt. Mrs Derieva appeared in the doorway, her brows lifted, and Draco nodded to both acknowledge and dismiss her. He knew who was coming. He'd been expecting her for over an hour.</p>
<p>He circled the table, looking for the best angle to make his next shot. He wasn't officially keeping score, playing by himself, but he chalked his cue and considered the black. It seemed to have a good position and would give him the most points before he had to start on the run of colored balls.</p>
<p>"I can never remember," Hermione said quietly from the door. "Is it yellow or green that's lowest scoring?"</p>
<p>"Yellow," Draco said. He tightened his grip on the cue without taking his eyes from the table. "Green next. Then brown."</p>
<p>In the corner of his vision, he watched her approaching him. She stood at the short side of the table, then edged around it. She slowed as she got closer to him. </p>
<p>Draco silently moved the cue to rest on his right shoulder. He held his empty hand low and out.</p>
<p>Hermione nestled in against his side and Draco wrapped his arm around her shoulders. </p>
<p>They stood without speaking for a few moments, both of them staring at the table. Eventually Hermione coughed and lifted her head. "I'm sorry," she said. "For what I said. About you being like your father. That—you didn't deserve that. I know it hurt you, and it had to be worse today of all days." Her voice softened. "You did tell me that I'd hurt you eventually. Looks like you were right."</p>
<p>Draco turned his head to exhale smoke away from her. "I also told you I'd forgive you when you did. I believe that you didn't mean it."</p>
<p>"I didn't." She drummed her fingers on the edge of the table. "But I meant the bits before it. About how you always make that decision. When we're going to talk about something. You can't keep doing that. We're partners."</p>
<p>She leaned her head against his arm. "We're lovers," she said. "We need to make decisions as a couple. Co-operate and compromise. You can't just give orders and expect I'll blindly obey."</p>
<p>Draco ordered himself to relax his jaw. Obey. He heard the word echoing in his mind, and quickly pushed away the image of himself, on his knees and swearing submission and devotion to the Dark Lord. He took a slow breath. "I have been very careful to ensure that I have your consent for <em>everything</em> I do. At the club, in bed. I make certain. Every time."</p>
<p>"Not like that, Draco." Hermione made a soft noise. "Lift me up so I can see your face."</p>
<p>She turned to stand between him and the table. Draco set the cue aside and picked Hermione up to settle her on the cushion rail. Like everything else he used frequently, the snooker table was built to his height, and Hermione's feet touched his knees once she was in place. </p>
<p>"I didn't mean sexual orders," she said, taking his hand and holding it loosely. "Because you're right. You've checked with me at every step, verified that I was comfortable. Even after it stopped being fake roles and started being a real relationship, you haven't failed to work <em>with</em> me."</p>
<p>"I have to." Draco moved back a step, keeping his hand in her grasp, but giving him room to smoke without blowing it directly in her face. "First, the size issue. I could do a lot of damage to you if you weren't completely ready and willing. Second, I'm—" </p>
<p>He closed his eyes for a moment, fighting off the memory of his mother, hiding her tears as she followed his father upstairs to fulfill her marital duties. </p>
<p>"Second," he said again, his voice rough. "I will never take a woman because I think I have the right to her body. I will always, <em>always</em> be certain I'm welcome."</p>
<p>Hermione cupped her hands around his, rubbing his knuckles with her thumbs. "You are," she said. "You're always welcome, as far as I'm concerned. And you're always careful, Draco. You check in and you verify and you make sure I'm on board. And—and. And you told me what Harry wanted us to do, be obvious about our relationship and hope it draws the killer's attention, and you made sure I was okay with the plan before you agreed to it."</p>
<p>Draco took a long drag off his cigarette, listening to the paper and tobacco crackle as it burned. He ducked his head, exhaling through his nose, watching the smoke eddy around Hermione's feet before the charms on the room sucked it away. "Again," he said. "That had the potential for you to get hurt. I had to be certain you knew that and understood."</p>
<p>"So why do you refuse to—" Her hands locked tight around his fingers. "Because that's me," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Because that's physical. Because those are things that might involve me getting physically hurt."</p>
<p>She looked up at him. "But every time you refuse to have a conversation about something, every time you tell me that we're not discussing it, that it's not something you're going to talk about, it's because it involves you getting <em>emotionally</em> hurt."</p>
<p>Draco looked away from her. "I do talk to you," he said. "I've told you more than Pansy and Blaise know. I spent hours telling you everything I never wanted to think about because you wanted me to talk to you."</p>
<p>She dropped his hand and rubbed her eyes. "I know. And I said you're done with it. You never have to talk about that again. I mean it, Draco. Not about your past or the horrible things you've had to do. I've heard enough and with your memory, I can't ask you to relive any of that even one more time. But—"</p>
<p>She gripped the cushion rail, her fingers wrapping tight around the edge until her knuckles turned white. "But you keep coming up with something new we're not going to discuss. Something else you've decided is off-limits. Like today, this thing with the latest victim's resemblance to me. First you spend two days avoiding me as much as you can, never even hinting at it, and then you tell me it's not up for discussion. You can't do that. It's not fair to us. It's not fair to me."</p>
<p>Draco put the cue stick into its rack, crushed out his cigarette in a wide metal tray, and pulled a bottle of whiskey from a cabinet. A quick look into the nearby rubbish bin had him swallowing hard as he took two mismatched glasses from the cabinet. He'd had a drink when he first walked into the billiards room, and had hurled the glass across the room. He'd watched the whiskey drip down the wall, shuddering as he realized for the first time where he had picked up that expression of anger. </p>
<p>"I didn't say I wasn't going to talk about it, ever. I said not <em>now</em>. Not right then." He poured a finger of whiskey in each glass. He could see his hand trembling slightly as he held one glass out to her, and it didn't ease when she slid her hand over his. "Not an hour before I saw you, I had just spoken to my father for the first time in a decade and for the last time in my life. I don't know if you can ever understand how hard that was for me to do."</p>
<p>Hermione swallowed the whiskey and set the glass aside, taking his hand once he'd done the same. She brushed the engravings on his signet ring. "You hate him," she said quietly. "But you did love him."</p>
<p>"Fucked up, I know." Draco sighed. "I worshipped him as a child. I emulated him, did everything I could to be like him. All I wanted was to make him proud of me. It took me years to realize that no matter what I did, I'd never be good enough for him. And today, I—"</p>
<p>Carefully, Draco closed up the memory of exactly what Lucius had said to him about her. He would never repeat those words, not to her. He'd gone over them enough in his mind since he'd left the prison. Only one of them needed to know what had been said and he wouldn't burden her with it.</p>
<p>He stepped closer to Hermione, sliding his free hand under her hair to cradle the back of her head. Bending down, he kissed her. "Today," he said against her mouth. "I told him to fuck off because I was in love with you. Because I'm happy with you. And because I was <em>proud</em> to throw away everything he taught me, everything I tried to be for him, so that I could be with you."</p>
<p>Her mouth shifted, forming a smile he could feel, and she returned his light kiss. "It's very difficult to stay angry with you when you say things like that, Draco Malfoy."</p>
<p>He lifted his head enough to look into her eyes. "I do love you," he said. "And I don't like upsetting you. But I don't exactly have a lot of decent role models. My father threatened, dominated, and essentially raped my mother. My aunt flagrantly abandoned her husband for the Dark Lord, and Rodolphus was never discreet about his anger over it. I don't have good relationship examples to follow. I'm going to get things wrong all the time because I've never seen them done right. I don't know how to get around that. I'm not intending to shut you up when I don't want to talk, but I don't know any other way to—to. To express that I'm not handling a situation as well as I'd like."</p>
<p>Hermione brushed his fringe away from his forehead and cupped his cheek, gently dragging her thumb across his bottom lip. "I have a thought. When you say you don't want to talk about something, I'll accept that. If you immediately follow it up with a suggestion for when you do want to talk. Give me a time for when you think you'll be ready. Say: 'I don't want to talk about this now, but I'll be ready after dinner.' Or some other time in the near future. Tell me that you <em>will</em> talk, and soon, instead of telling me we're not going to discuss it. When you do that, I think you mean never. If you can give me a timeframe, it will help me."</p>
<p>He nodded. "I'll try. And in the spirit of compromise, I—" His voice caught in his throat. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then looked at her, his words coming out in a rush. "When it looks like I'm putting you off or I'm—I'm putting on my mask again. I'm not doing it to hurt you. It's because I'm afraid. And I spent years, literal years, knowing that I would be punished if I showed fear. When I build those walls, I'm doing it to protect myself."</p>
<p>"I know. I know you are, Draco. I wish you didn't feel that you had to hide." </p>
<p>He squeezed her hand. "You'll have to remind me over and over that I'm allowed to—to want. To ask for help. Because I've been trained not to even hope for it. But I think I can try." </p>
<p>Wetting his lips, he watched her face. The thought of asking for something he wanted, something he'd never admitted he needed, had him shaking but her steady, accepting gaze let him speak. "And I think, when I do, if you could just quietly hold on to me for a moment. Just hold on to me, tell me that you're there for me. Like you did at the restaurant and after my inquiry." He managed a small smile. "Like you're doing now. "</p>
<p>She slid her hand from his cheek to the back of his neck, stroking along his spine. Her fingers went still, then she slowly, delicately tapped three times on his nape. </p>
<p>Draco blinked at her, his heart pounding in sudden, worried confusion. That was their 'acting' signal when they'd still been claiming their relationship was false, their reminder that their next actions were to keep their covers. He didn't understand why she was using it now.</p>
<p>Hermione smiled and dragged her hand down to rest over his heart. "I'm going to repurpose that signal," she said. "Instead of reminding us that we're working, it's going to remind us that we're working <em>together</em>. Three taps, because you can trust me. You can take off your mask with me, even if it takes you a little time."</p>
<p>Stretching up, she kissed each corner of his mouth and the center of his lower lip, three light  kisses. "I'll try harder to hear you when you say 'not now' and understand that it doesn't mean 'not ever'. And you can try harder to ask me to wait instead of making it a declaration. Even if neither of us can verbalize it, we can do this, and we'll know." </p>
<p>She gripped his hand, three times, each of her next words timed to a squeeze. "I love you."</p>
<p>Draco watched her eyes for a moment, then nodded. It could work. When she gave him time to come to grips with something difficult, he could open up to her. He had before, and he could again. Using the taps as a signal let him ask for help without having to outright ask. It settled something in his brain.</p>
<p>Hermione reached up to stroke the back of his neck. She tapped.</p>
<p>Draco smiled and nudged one knee between her thighs. "I love you, too," he murmured. He tipped her head back, kissing her deep. One kiss became two, and then three, as he lowered her onto the table.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Hermione sipped the last of her tea, looking out from the study window over the grounds of the Manor. In the rose garden, a solid white peacock flared his tail and shook his elaborate feathers, but the nearby peahen ignored him. </p>
<p>Hermione tapped one finger against the glass. "He's showing off for you," she said. "Pay attention for a few seconds, at least."</p>
<p>She heard Draco chuckle and turned to see him pushing up on his elbows to look at her from the long sofa. "You know they can't hear you. And they wouldn't understand you if they could."</p>
<p>Hermione set her cup on the side table and moved to thread her fingers through Draco's hair. "True. But I think she should give him a chance. He's trying so hard." She smiled down at him. "And he's so large and pale."</p>
<p>Draco grinned and hauled her onto the sofa with him. "Sounds like a metaphor."</p>
<p>"Analogy." She sprawled on top of Draco, her head resting on his shoulder. Sighing as he stroked one hand down her back, she closed her eyes. After their argument and their reconciliation on the snooker table, they'd had a pleasant walk in the garden. She knew Pansy and Harry were expecting her home for dinner, but she was so comfortable that she didn't want to move. Draco was warm and solid beneath her, and his long fingers were leaving trails of heat along her spine.</p>
<p>"I should go," she muttered, attempting to convince herself to get up. "Pansy. Harry. I should—"</p>
<p>"I sent Striga to tell them you were staying for dinner," Draco said. "Mrs Soyer made poached pears just for you."</p>
<p>Hermione hummed. "Well, I'd hate to disappoint Mrs Soyer. If she went to all that trouble."</p>
<p>Draco settled his hand on the small of her back. "Besides, I wanted to, er. I thought we could—"</p>
<p>When he fell silent, Hermione reached up without looking and laid her hand against his cheek. She tapped one finger gently.</p>
<p>Draco immediately returned the three light taps. "I wanted to talk now," he said in a low voice. "About the latest victim."</p>
<p>Hermione started to sit up and Draco pressed on her back, holding her in place. "Like this," he said. "It's easier for me."</p>
<p>His heartbeat was steady under her ear and his hand was warm through her shirt. Hermione held still. He did seem more able to talk when he wasn't looking at her, and she wondered if his need to avoid her eyes was from some unconscious, deep fear of a Legilimency attempt. If it was, she'd look away from him as much as he needed. She'd put on a blindfold if that meant he could talk comfortably.</p>
<p>Draco cleared his throat, the sound rumbling through her. "I know it wasn't you. Her chest scar is different. Her breasts weren't the same shape. She had wider hips. And she didn't have that word carved into her arm. Everything that resembled you was superficial, but it was strong."</p>
<p>Hermione nodded. "When I met her, I was a little surprised by the resemblance. I suppose that's why she was auditioning for the documentary. And she clearly put a lot of work into making herself look even more like me. I'm not surprised you were startled when you saw her. I got a bit of a shock looking at the photo. It had to be much worse seeing her in person."</p>
<p>He resumed stroking her back, his fingers moving slowly to trace the curves of her shoulderblades and the length of her spine. "I knew it wasn't you the moment I saw her. I slept with you in my arms. I woke up with you. I kissed you before I left and she was discovered before that. There was no possible way that body was you. And still, looking down at her in the grass, I was—I'd swear I actually felt my heart stop."</p>
<p>Hermione could feel his chest moving faster as his breathing quickened, and she tapped his shoulder three times. "I'm here," she whispered. </p>
<p>Draco swallowed hard. "It wasn't you and I knew it, but I couldn't stop thinking. What if the next one was?"</p>
<p>Hermione lifted her head. He didn't protest when she looked at him. He met her eyes, his expression tight with worry. Hermione cradled his cheeks.  "Draco. It wasn't me. And it won't be me. It's not going to happen."</p>
<p>"We're supposed to be intentionally drawing out the killer. Flaunting our relationship. We're deliberately trying to antagonize him. I was willing to do it, but now that he's gone to the trouble of finding a victim who looks so much like you, I'm regretting that decision. It was a warning, Hermione."</p>
<p>"You're getting close. He wants to frighten you into abandoning the investigation." She shook her head, sitting up on his thighs with her hands on his chest. "That's not who you are."</p>
<p>"No." Draco rubbed his thumbs up her legs to wrap his hands around her hips. "You're right, a warning wouldn't be enough to get me off the case. I've been threatened before." </p>
<p>She could imagine, with the kind of witches and wizards he investigated. But he survived. He always survived. "You're not going to give this case to someone else. He's an idiot if he thinks you'll abandon your work. Threats aren't going to do it. Even a threat to me. If anything, threatening me would make you double your efforts. I know what you'll do to protect your loved ones. Obviously, he doesn't." </p>
<p>He took a slow breath. "No. He made a mistake. More than one, actually. First, she looked like you to start with, and second, he went too far enhancing that resemblance. One little detail too far." </p>
<p>Hermione lifted her brows. </p>
<p>"Green nail varnish on her toes."</p>
<p>"Green nail varnish," she repeated. She thought for a moment, then her eyes widened. "That's a <em>very</em> specific detail. And there's only been one place I've worn that where it could be seen. Our killer was at the Thorned Rose the first night we went there."</p>
<p>He nodded. "But there's more than that. Your dress that night had that wide neckline, but it was high enough that your chest scar didn't show. The next time, your dress was low enough for it. And at the Rose Ball—"</p>
<p>"It was completely on display." Long stretches of that night were a blur to Hermione, from all the teasing and attention Draco had given her, but she remembered that her breasts and the scar between them had been fully exposed several times. "So it was someone who was at the club the same nights we were." She looked at him. "You remember everyone you've ever seen which means you remember who was there."</p>
<p>"Monday, I'm going to sit down with a department sketch artist and have them give me images of everyone I saw on those nights. Someone who was definitely there the first night and one or both of the others. It's not a long list." </p>
<p>"We should go back this weekend," Hermione said. "And we should play. If the killer is there again, we can expect that he'll track us. The Rose Ball, there were too many people there and it would have been hard to tell if anyone was watching us in particular. But if we go tomorrow night, and the killer is following us, playing in one of the smaller rooms means he won't be able to hide in the crowd. That would give you an additional point of comparison for the sketch artist to narrow your list even further."</p>
<p>Draco gave her a hint of a smile. "You really don't need to argue that hard to get me to go back to the club."</p>
<p>Hermione laughed. "I know." She rose up on her knees and moved forward, then slowly sat back until their hips were aligned. She wriggled, her head tipped up and eyes distant, as if she was fidgeting while she thought. A twitch under her arse nearly made her smile, but she pressed her lips together. "And I think you should come with me on my errands this week. We should be seen all over Diagon Alley with each other."</p>
<p>"I think you misspoke, there. I think you meant to say we should be seen in Diagon Alley, all over each other." Draco rolled his hips, grinding against her. </p>
<p>Hermione clenched her jaw to keep from giving him the satisfaction of pulling a sound from her, but from the arch of his brow, he knew. "You bastard," she mumbled. She slid one hand down his chest to stroke the front of his trousers. "Yes. That's exactly what I meant."</p>
<p>A soft cough at the door made her look up. Mrs Derieva stood on the threshold, an amused glint in her eyes. "Mrs Soyer will have dinner on the table in ten minutes. Miss Parkinson has sent a trifle to accompany the poached pears."</p>
<p>Hermione knew the woman couldn't see anything from that angle, and she deliberately dragged her fingers along Draco's length.</p>
<p>"Thank you," Draco called in a strangled voice. "That will be all."</p>
<p>The housekeeper shut the door and Hermione looked down, blinking innocently. "Whatever reason could Pansy have for sending us a trifle?"</p>
<p>"Reasons I'll hear all about at Snakes Night this coming week, I can guarantee." Stifling a groan, Draco pushed Hermione's hips to slide her down his thighs. He sat up and scrubbed his face with both hands before running them through his hair to straighten the disheveled strands. He sighed, shoulders dropping, then leaned forward to kiss Hermione's forehead. "To be continued after dinner."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Chapter 25</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco opened his eyes, the ceiling gradually coming into focus. His heart pounded against his ribs, in his temples, under his palm resting on his chest. Between his thighs, Hermione stirred. He heard her swallow and he lifted his head to see her wiping her thumb across her lips. "H'ne, tha—" </p><p>He thumped his head into the pillows with a soft groan. He'd suggested that they have sex before going to the play rooms, to take the edge off and let them play longer, but she'd shoved him onto his back and announced she had a different idea. Before he could think, she had one hand on his cock and her hair swaying across his hips. For several minutes, he'd stopped thinking at all.</p><p>She smiled at him and crawled up the bed to stretch out beside him. "I believe that proves I was telling the truth," she said with a soft laugh. "I don't have a gag reflex. Just needed to get used to your size."</p><p>"Mmhmm." Draco shifted to wrap his arm around her, pulling her tight to his side. He toyed with the ends of her hair as his breathing settled. "True. G'job."</p><p>Hermione's laugh deepened. She trailed her fingers down his Sectumsempra scar to rest on his hip. "Am I supposed to feel quite so pleased about how easily I can render you speechless?"</p><p>"Girlfriend privilege," he mumbled, words coming back to him slowly. "Allowed to be smug."</p><p>She hummed and kissed his chest. "Tell me when you're ready and I'll find your trousers."</p><p>Sighing, he spread his hand across her bare back. "Could stay up here, you know. Nothing says we have to go play just because we're at the club."</p><p>"Very true, but the reason for coming here tonight—Well, all right. We have two reasons. First, play. Second, work. Unless you think the killer might be hiding under the bed, we're not going to spot him up here."</p><p>Draco grumbled, tightened his grip on Hermione, and rolled over to pin her under him. He nudged her head up and bit the side of her neck, sucking hard as she moaned. "Ready," he said into her throat.</p><p>"Cheater."</p><p>Draco lifted his head and examined the reddened mark he'd left on her neck. "Think trousers are the only thing I'm going to wear downstairs," he said, deciding to leave it as it was for the moment. He could deepen it later, when they had an audience. "Just to save time."</p><p>Hermione gave him a slow grin. "Now <em>that</em> is conducive to seduction."</p><p>With a soft growl, Draco twisted enough to catch one of her nipples in his teeth. He tugged lightly, his hand flat across her stomach to hold her to the bed when she writhed. Grinning, he kissed down her torso and over her thighs before rolling off the bed. He grabbed his trousers off the floor and flung them over his shoulder, closing the door behind him.</p><p>He pulled on the trousers and fastened his belt, checked the fit of the silver bracelet around his wrist, and chose to go barefoot. He thought he'd have time for a quick smoke before Hermione stepped out of the bedroom, but she opened the door sooner than he'd anticipated. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled at her. "Nice dress," he said. "I do like you in green."</p><p>Hermione was also barefoot. She adjusted the knotted sash holding her satin dress closed as she came to stand beside him. "I know. I'd say I like you in blue but I've only seen you wear it once." </p><p>He bent to kiss her, chuckling when she pushed his hand away from the sash. "If you buy me anything else in blue," he said, "I promise I'll wear it whenever you like."</p><p>Taking her hand, he led her out of the suite and into the lift. In the main hall, he looked from face to face, putting every guest into his mind, moving slowly to see if anyone paid extra attention to him and Hermione as he took her up to the open-play floor. </p><p>He sensed a tremble run through her at the top of the stairs, and he stopped in the small lounge. Her breathing seemed a little fast, giving him pause. He squeezed her hand gently.  "Are you all right?"</p><p>"I'm fine," she said, sliding her free hand up his chest. "I'm better than fine. I've been looking forward to this. Just ... a little hard to believe that it's happening."</p><p>He drew her in close, her satin dress cool under his palm. "I know we discussed this. But if you change your mind—"</p><p>She shook her head, met his eyes, and tapped one finger three times on his lips. "Draco," she whispered. "I want you to paint me in wax. I want your hands to bruise my hips and your mouth to bruise my neck. I want to have your marks on every inch of my body and I want everyone in the room to watch you claiming me as <em>yours</em>."</p><p>Draco shuddered, his skin flaring hot. He finally understood what Hermione meant when she said that his voice alone turned her on. Her quiet desires had his cock throbbing. If he hadn't already come once that night, he would have been close just from her words.  </p><p>He took a deep breath and gathered his control. They had the entire night ahead of them. </p><p>Hermione slid her arm around his waist, taking a grip on his belt. He put his arm over her shoulders and led her through the door to the long wide hallway. On their first visit to this floor, they'd taken a glance into every room. He'd wanted her to have the opportunity to observe all the playspaces and become familiar with the open activity, to see what she might like. </p><p>This time, they looked into each room so that the occupants could observe them. Draco took note of faces, greeting a few people as they walked from space to space. </p><p>The throne room was unoccupied but Hermione tried to turn him so that he couldn't see through the arch. Draco squeezed her shoulders, stopping her. "I appreciate it," he said. "But you don't have to do that. I told you, I know what's in that room."</p><p>"I don't want it affecting you," she said quietly. "Bringing up bad memories."</p><p>He took a deep breath, going still as the smell of cedar came to him. He let go of Hermione and stepped through the arch, flaring his nostrils to take another breath. At one side was a tall, shabby armoire he hadn't noticed the last time he passed the room, one ill-fitting door hanging partially open. Draco eased it wider, raising his brows at the black garments packed in tight. The armoire was lined with cedar to keep out moths, though it didn't seem to be doing much good. The cloaks and robes could pass at a distance, but up close they were ripped and stained, unraveling in places and singed in others.</p><p>Draco stepped back, shaking his head, and found Hermione had come in to stand with him. She grabbed his hand in both of hers, triple-tapping his wrist several times. Her expression was taut and Draco immediately cupped her cheek, fingers sliding into her hair. "It's all right. Hermione, I swear, it's all right. It doesn't set me off. No bad memories. I know it's all false, I know it's all role play. It's a kink, and one I don't like, but it doesn't bother me the way you're thinking."</p><p>Hermione wrinkled her nose, the tension in her shoulders easing. "There are some fetishes I'm never going to understand."</p><p>"Agreed." Draco bent to kiss her forehead and tugged gently at her hand. "Come on. Let's move on and think about more pleasant things." He lowered to whisper to her ear. "It's time for wax, pet."</p>
<hr/><p>Despite Hermione's willingness, Draco didn't want to play in the center of the room with full attention on them, not right away. He chose a table off to the side, where they could collect a smaller audience. Draco spent a moment adjusting the table, moving it further from the wall for him to stand behind and using the built-in charms to lift it higher, while he observed the people in the room.</p><p>Geoffrey and another staff member, who had been a waiter at the Rose Ball, were putting fresh candles onto the nearby supply table. Geoffrey met his eyes and Draco gave him a steady look. Geoffrey flicked a quick, mostly-hidden face of disgust at Hermione before he scurried out with a box of half-used candles. </p><p>Draco turned his attention to the other people in the room. The monitor had been one of the welcomers the first night he'd brought Hermione to the club, and three of the players had been in the main hall or other rooms, including the long-haired man he remembered tying the tengu shibari Hermione had liked so much. Several people had been watching or participating in waxplay the night he'd brought off Hermione. </p><p>Draco tucked all the faces away in his memory and held his hand to Hermione. "Ready, pet?"</p><p>She joined him at the table. Smiling up at him, she untied the sash of her dress and slipped it off her arms.</p><p>Draco's breath caught. Beneath the satin, Hermione was almost naked. No knickers, no bra, no stockings. All she had on was the greyhound ring and her gauntlet-style gloves. The sheer expanse of skin she was showing had him half-hard and throbbing. </p><p>He circled her waist with both hands and lifted her to sit on one end of the table. She kept her eyes on his as she stretched, arching her back. Draco took her invitation and spread his hands across her breasts, her nipples stiff in his palms, then bent to give each of them a light suckle. Hermione whined when he moved away from her, and their audience grew a little larger.</p><p>Careful to stand where he could keep her in his view at all times, he selected a long, slim candle, testing it idly with his thumbnail, lifting it for a scent. A pale purple, it had the faintest hint of lilac. He rejected it. Hermione smelled of cinnamon and amber, a deep musky, sensual perfume. He wanted something that would harmonize with her. Testing a few others made him wrinkle his nose until he came across a thick pillar in a dark, emerald green. It smelled of jasmine and honey, and Draco smiled to himself.</p><p>He lit the candle and waited for the wax to pool at the top. It melted quickly, charmed for play, and he held his empty hand in front of him, palm down. He tipped the candle and let a droplet of the wax fall. It stung for only a moment before warmth spread through his skin, and dried solid in a few seconds. The hardened wax peeled off without leaving scraps behind, though it did tug at the pale hairs on his arm.</p><p>It would work.</p><p>He brought the candle over to the table. Hermione had her teeth set into her lip, her eyes locked on his hands around the candle. Draco set it down and her eyes followed it.</p><p>"Nervous?" he asked.</p><p>"A little," she said. "I don't—not on my breasts, please. I think they're too sensitive for that until I'm more experienced."</p><p>A couple of their audience members nodded. Draco heard one man whispering to his partner, commending Hermione for stating her boundaries clearly, and saw the anxious-looking submissive relax slightly. He gave the young woman a quick smile and spoke to Hermione. "You're right, pet. You know I'll never do anything you don't want. Good girl."</p><p>She shivered at the quiet praise, her nipples tightening, and Draco stroked her shoulders as he took up position behind the table to give their watchers a good view. "We'll start with your back. It'll be easier for the first time. Lie down, pet."</p><p>Once she was in position, he cast a charm, a small pool of clear oil forming in the dip of her back. He set the tip of one finger into it and drew it along her skin, watching her muscles tense. Slowly, he flattened his hand over her spine and spread the oil across her skin, forming a small barrier that would prevent the wax from sticking to any fine hairs on her body and make it easier to remove when they were done.</p><p>He admitted to himself that he was taking longer than necessary to spread the oil over her. She was warm under his hand, her skin soft, and he wanted to touch her for hours. He spread his fingers out, smiling at how well the full span of his hand covered her.</p><p>As he slowly massaged the oil into her skin, Hermione relaxed, her eyes drifting closed and her breathing smoothing out. She brought her arms up and tucked them beneath her, pillowing her head on them. Draco brushed her hair to the side, leaving it in a puddle on the table beside her. He bent down and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "Ready?" he murmured.</p><p>"Mmhmm," she hummed, her eyes half-opening. "Want to do this." Her voice was soft, half-drowsy.</p><p>Draco stood beside her, looking over the sweep of her back and the rise of her buttocks. She had her thighs pressed together, her ankles crossed, and her toes were flexing, curling and straightening in slow repetitions.</p><p>Draco checked the wax of the candle, then lifted it over her, starting nearly two feet above her back. He tipped the candle and let a single drop fall.</p><p>Green wax dropped directly between her shoulderblades, centered on her spine.</p><p>Hermione sucked in a breath.</p><p>"Too hot?" Draco asked.</p><p>"<em>No</em>," she said, one hand sliding from beneath her head. She reached back and brushed his leg, patting his thigh. "Good. Very good. Keep going."</p><p>Draco took his time with the drops of wax. He followed the column of her spine down to the small dimples above her arse, then left several short horizontal stripes up to her shoulders. He lowered the candle in increments, each drop losing a little of the perfect circular shape, until he was bare inches from her skin and the wax had heated and melted enough to flow over her in long streams. It dripped down her sides. Beneath the green, her pale skin was a heated red.</p><p>Draco paused every few minutes, checking in with Hermione, making certain she was still comfortable, still willing. Their audience murmured approvals and enjoyments as he worked on her, a few playing with each other while they watched. Draco ignored them, focused on Hermione, unable to concentrate on anything except the scent of the wax mixing with her perfume. Her face held an expression of pure bliss, lips parted and eyelids fluttering with pleasure. "Keep going," she said at one point before her words disappeared into soft hums and moans.</p><p>He knew she'd experienced a little waxplay before, but he hadn't expected she would sink into it so easily. Every time he thought she might want to stop, she begged for more. Draco decorated her with the wax until her back was a solid stretch of green, only hints of her skin peeking out here and there. When he couldn't find a place that wouldn't be just piling wax on top of wax, he blew out the candle and set it aside. He touched her back gingerly, testing for any overly thick or tacky spots as he moved around her. </p><p>"This looks lovely, pet," he said, standing near her head. He stroked her hair away from her face to brush his thumb over her lips. "You do look good in green."</p><p>"Mmhmm," she hummed, kissing his thumb. "Feels good. "</p><p>Two word sentences seemed to be the best she was capable of and it made something deep in Draco's gut tense up and demand attention. "Take a minute," he said, focusing on each word to make it coherent. "Let it harden more, then we'll peel it off."</p><p>"Noooo," she moaned, opening her eyes. "Leave it. So warm."</p><p>Several of their watchers laughed and nodded in agreement. Draco chuckled, settling his hand on the back of her neck. "Can't leave it, pet. Not for too long. It'll be too hard for me to get off."</p><p>She turned her head enough to look up at him. Her lips curled, a deep smile forming. "Wouldn't want that," she said. Carefully, she pushed up onto one elbow. Her free hand reached out and wrapped around his belt, tugging him a step closer to her. Draco sucked in a breath, her fingers only an inch from his cock.</p><p>Hermione shifted her hand and her thumb ran up the length of his zipper. "<em>Want</em> you to get off," she said. She ran her thumb up and down, tracing the shape of him through his trousers. </p><p>She flattened her palm against him and he instinctively ground against her hand. He could smell more than her perfume now. There was a heavy, musky scent added to it, one very familiar to him, the scent of want and arousal and sex. Hermione was wet and he was so hard it ached.</p><p>Draco's head fell back. "Hermione." His voice came out in a low growl.</p><p>Hermione slowly sat up, moving stiffly with the wax covering her back, and spread her thighs around him, the scent of her strong and heavy to his nose. She slid one hand down his chest, following the line of his scar, until she unfastened his belt and unzipped his trousers. She slipped her fingers under the fabric and lifted his cock upright.</p><p>He throbbed at her touch, growling again. Hermione collected a few droplets off the head and met his eyes. She licked her finger, then slowly pushed it into her mouth, closing her lips around it as she drew it out. </p><p>Draco broke. He snapped both arms around her, the wax cracking under his grip. It spattered across the table, crunching onto the floor. He hauled her against him, head bent in a ferocious kiss that claimed every inch of her mouth. Hermione lifted her knees, her legs wrapping around his waist.</p><p>She shoved his trousers down and wrapped her hands around his cock. Breaking their kiss, she ducked her head to look between them and watch as she stroked him. Draco slammed both hands onto the table beside her hips, his forehead resting against her crown. Hermione interlocked her fingers and pumped them up his length. </p><p>Draco groaned. He thrust into her hands, hips snapping sharply. "Hermione," he mumbled into her hair. "On your knees."</p><p>She raised her head, the gold flecks in her eyes gleaming. "God, yes," she said, letting go of his cock to shove her hands into his hair and pull him down for a deep, probing kiss. She scraped her teeth across his lip. "Make me yours."</p><p>She moved back and Draco stripped, trousers shoved to the floor and kicked under the table. As always, a few of the watchers made comments on his size: some jealous, some admiring. He intentionally posed, giving himself long gentle strokes to provide the audience with a show. </p><p>Hermione turned around, going to her knees and forearms, arse swaying gently. She'd pulled her hair over her shoulder and set one hand under her cheek. Draco pressed on both corners of the table, charms lowering it to the perfect height for him to slide into her. He put his hand between her thighs, cupping her, and she quivered. "Yes," she whispered, closing her eyes. "Please, Sir."</p><p>Draco slid his fingers into her, testing gently. She clenched down, then opened around him, wet and hot and ready. She rocked back and Draco gave her thigh a warning tap. "Don't move," he said. "This is mine."</p><p>He rubbed the tip of his cock against her, lined up, and pushed in just enough to be seated. Hermione shook, but held still. Draco smiled. "Good girl."</p><p>Hermione moaned, her head rocking on her hand. She held the other back to him, reaching for him, then curled her fingers around the edge of the table. "Please. <em>Please</em>, Sir."</p><p>Draco set both hands on her hips, stripes of wax crackling under his palms. He watched her for a moment, breathing deeply, inhaling the scents off her body. Cinnamon and amber perfume, jasmine and honey candle wax, and the heavy, salt scent of arousal. His heart raced and he tightened his hold on her hips.</p><p>He pushed into her, sliding half his length into her on one thrust. She keened as she strained to take him. Draco waited, giving her a few seconds to adjust, then caught his breath and slid deeper. A few more seconds, then deeper, and then he was fully inside her. He let out a soft groan, bowing his head. "Pet. Tell me what you want." </p><p>Hermione moaned and clutched the side of the table. "More," she said, her voice thick. "Hard. Take me hard, Sir. Make me yours."</p><p>"<em>Good</em> girl." Draco stroked his thumbs over her arse cheeks, pulling them wider and giving him a much better view of the way her cunt stretched around him. He drew out to the tip, checked his stance, and drove into her.</p><p>He took her fast, each slam of his hips against her arse making her body shake. Hermione clung to the table, grunting and moaning with every thrust, dried wax cracking off her skin. She pushed up onto her hands, meeting him stroke for stroke. </p><p>Draco slid his hands up her stomach to her breasts, rolling her nipples in his fingers. Hermione shrieked and shoved upright on her knees, her head back against his shoulder. Draco moved with her, his palms over her breasts as he fucked her. He nipped at the curve of her neck.</p><p>"More," she said, panting for breath. "Marks, <em>please</em>."</p><p>Draco angled his head, finding the spot he'd bitten earlier, and sank his teeth in to leave his mark behind. He growled deep in his throat, her skin hot under his tongue. </p><p>Hermione slid one arm up, cradling the back of his neck as he lifted his head. She twisted slightly, her lips brushing his jaw. He could feel himself trembling, legs tense and core tightened, and he thrust harder. He kissed her, one hand coming up to rest on her throat. Spreading his fingers wide, he stroked both sides of her neck, her pulse racing beneath his touch. "Mine," he said, his voice turning dark and guttural. "You're mine."</p><p>Hermione groaned. She reached back, digging her nails into his thigh, and looked into his eyes. "Draco," she whispered. "Inside me."</p><p>He shuddered, yanking her hard against him, and slammed into her one more time. Heat rolled over him, her words echoing in his ears. He felt himself throbbing, felt each pulse of his cock deep inside her. Before his orgasm ended, he pulled nearly out of her, looking down to watch his cock twitch, white streams of come sliding along his shaft to drip onto the table.</p><p>Hermione reached down, fingertips brushing his cock. He slipped out of her and she made a desperate sound. "Please, Sir. I need— May I?"</p><p>He smiled, kissing the curve of her ear. "Your turn, pet."</p><p>Hermione moaned. She reached down, slicking her fingers with his come, and Draco watched over her shoulder as she rubbed her clit. Her need climbed fast, her face turning a brilliant red, her body quivering in his arms. Mouth open, chest heaving, she strained for orgasm, her eyes never leaving his. She couldn't speak, but her lips moved, shaping around her pleas.</p><p>From the desperation in her face, she needed more. Draco knew exactly what she needed. He kissed her. Slowly, he spun his signet ring on his finger and slid his hand down her stomach to push between her thighs. He held her eyes as he pressed the ring to her. "You're mine," he whispered to her. "You'll always be mine. I have you. I love you."</p><p>She shattered, his name ringing off the walls, and went limp against him. Draco raised his brows and gently touched her cheek, brushing a tear off her skin. She didn't move.</p><p>He smiled after a moment, the realization striking him. She'd passed out.</p><p>He gently laid her down on the table to pull on his trousers and collect her discarded dress. He wrapped it around her, then picked her up and cradled her in his arms. The dom with the young sub congratulated him, offering praises to Hermione by proxy, and Draco gave them a nod of acknowledgement. "Thanks," he said quietly. "I'll let her know once she's back. If you'll excuse me. Rule fourteen."</p><p>They stepped out of the way and Draco headed for the exit, alerting the room monitor that he couldn't clean up the table and wax they'd used, and that he was taking Hermione to a recovery room for aftercare. The monitor nodded and spoke quietly into an intercom as Draco left.</p><p>He carried Hermione down the stairs to the main hall, where he had to halt abruptly before he knocked over Geoffrey. "Move," he said, narrowing his eyes.</p><p>"Mr Malfoy," Geoffrey said, his smile tight and sharp. "Would you like her taken to the infirmary? Rule eight, of course, so you will need to return to your suite."</p><p>"She's fine," Draco snapped. "Recovery room. They already know we're on our way."</p><p>"You take such good care of her. Watching over her. Staying with her. Never leaving her alone for even a moment. Smart of you." He looked over Hermione, his eyes locked on her exposed thigh before he slowly turned his attention back to Draco's face. He gave a short laugh. "Who knows what could happen to the damsel when her knight isn't around?"</p><p>Draco clenched his teeth, instinctively tightening his grip on Hermione. If he hadn't been holding her, he suspected he might have drawn his wand in response to the way Geoffrey's eyes had lingered. He stared down at Geoffrey. "She's mine and I will protect her. Move."</p><p>Geoffrey's smile widened. "Of course," he said in an oily tone. As Draco passed, Geoffrey whispered behind him. "Mud-fucker."</p>
<hr/><p>She was resting against a man's bare chest, a slow and rhythmic beat drumming against her ear. Safe, surrounded by warmth and strength, Hermione hummed in contentment. </p><p>"Hermione, are you with me?" </p><p>The man's voice was quiet, but deep and rolling. He was familiar, comforting. Beloved. </p><p>She hummed again. "Draco," she murmured. He took her hand, completely enclosing it in his fingers, and Hermione smiled to herself. "So big."</p><p>"Especially compared to you," he said with a soft laugh. He stroked her hair, his lips touching her forehead. "Are you with me?" he asked again.</p><p>"Mmm." She kept her eyes closed as she brought herself into focus. Steady breathing, steady heartbeat, steady thoughts. She wet her lips and nodded. "I'm back," she said. Slowly, she opened her eyes.</p><p>Draco was watching her, his grey eyes filled with an emotion she recognized. Hermione brought her hand to his face, tracing the arch of his cheekbone and the slope of his nose. "That look. I know it." His brow furrowed and she smoothed it with her thumb. "Yearning. Desire. Love. I can see how much you love me when you look at me. You tried to hide it for a long time, didn't you? Built walls around it. But not now. I see it."</p><p>His cheeks flushed pink. "I don't think I'm capable of building a mental wall to hide that. Not anymore." Draco slid his hand up her back and cradled her neck, holding her secure against him. "No walls for that. Never again, Hermione."</p><p>She settled her head on his chest, listening to his heart beating. In her mind, she separated the beats into groups of three, hearing it tell her <i>I love you</i>. </p><p>After a few moments, she shifted, looking around. They weren't in the suite. Draco had her on his lap and they were sitting on an antique fainting couch. The room was softly lit, and in one corner she could see a pair of women. They were playing cards, each of them with a silver long-stemmed rose attached to their shirt collars.</p><p>When Hermione sat up, the women looked in her direction. One focused on her, one focused on Draco. He held up his hand, palm out, and the women returned to their card game.</p><p>"Where are we?" Hermione asked, stretching her legs. Her muscles were tight, as if she'd been curled up in one position for some time.</p><p>"Recovery room," Draco said. He indicated the women with a nod. "Rule fourteen observers. To make sure you come down safe and that I'm giving you proper aftercare." </p><p>"I didn't get burned," she said, confused. "You were very careful with the wax."</p><p>"No. You were unconscious."</p><p>She blinked. She remembered the heat of the wax and Draco's whispered praises, remembered stroking him and pleading with him to claim her. She could hear his heavy breathing and the deep growl of his voice as he came, could feel the strength of his arms as he held her when she begged for her own orgasm, but then things in her mind went blurry. She shook her head. "You'll have to run that by me again. Are you saying I came so hard I <em>fainted</em>?"</p><p>Draco lifted one brow, watching her face, then he smiled, his wide and honest, true smile. His eyes shone as his dimples formed in his cheeks. "That's exactly what I'm saying."</p><p>"How long was I out?"</p><p>He glanced up at a clock hanging on the wall. "We've been in this room twenty minutes or so. Came straight here from the wax table."</p><p>Hermione stared at him, her cheeks heating, then she flung her arms around his neck. "Impressive," she said. "I believe you've just earned yourself your own set of smug boyfriend privilege points."</p><p>"Good to know," he said. He kissed between her brows and gently eased her back to look her over. "Now that you're with me, tell me how you're feeling. Need water or juice? Something to eat? Painkiller?"</p><p>Hermione smiled. She understood the reason for his questions. Wax play and intense public sex - they'd gone beyond their usual games. Checking in with her was important, after an experience like that, and given that she'd fainted, it was crucial. She would expect nothing less of Draco, but it still made her chest warm to see his concern and care.</p><p>She let her eyes drift shut as she mentally went over herself, outside and in. "I'm fine right now, still riding endorphins. I'll need a pain potion tomorrow, I suspect. A little bit of muscle ache and my knees are sore. My neck hurts where you bit me and my, um." She glanced at the women playing cards and lowered her voice. "We'll need to experiment with that angle some more. My cervix feels bruised."</p><p>Draco swore under his breath. "I didn't mean to—you wanted it harder. I didn't think."</p><p>"I'd be surprised if you <em>could</em> think. I certainly couldn't. But, next time we're in that position, don't go as deep." She tapped the tip of his nose. "There. Placed in your perfect memory."</p><p>He nodded, then made a gesture to the observers, who ended their card game and stood. One of them approached and asked Hermione the same questions Draco had, following up with a request for a short, non-invasive physical exam. She drew her wand, checked Hermione's pupil reactions, pulse, and blood pressure, then made a note on a form. </p><p>"All rule fourteen requirements fulfilled, Mr Malfoy," she said. "You're welcome to stay in the recovery room for another thirty minutes, or you may return to your suite or go back to the play rooms." She stopped at the door and turned back with a soft smile. "And rule fourteen, section two," she added. "No sex in the recovery room." Her companion followed her out. </p><p>Before Hermione could move off Draco's lap, Madame Berkely stepped through the doorway. She wore a stunning bright yellow sheath dress, with a long-stemmed rose pinned over her heart, and her long microbraids had been redone to include a series of gold beads. She smiled at them. "Miss Granger. I see you're up and with us again. How are you feeling? Do you need any assistance after your experience?"</p><p>Hermione tensed, leaning back against Draco. "He didn't do anything I didn't want him to do," she said sharply. "You can keep your insinuations to yourself."</p><p>Draco circled her waist, his hand spreading across her stomach, but he stayed silent.</p><p>Madame Berkely's smile softened. "No insinuations, Miss Granger. I'm not here to make accusations. I make a point of checking on anyone who needs the recovery room, just to see if there's anything that I or the house can provide."</p><p>Hermione gave the woman a long look, then nodded. "We're fine, thank you. Draco took good care of me."</p><p>"I've long been pleased to have him as a member of my house," Madame Berkely said. "He sets a good example." Her smile turned impish. "And he puts on an excellent show. I was only able to catch a few minutes of your performance tonight, Mr Malfoy, but I see you've lost none of your touch. You were clearly enjoying yourself immensely, both with the wax and the ... rest."</p><p>Draco cleared his throat, his fingers moving on Hermione's stomach. She felt him shift behind her, then felt a kiss on the crown of her head. "The choice of partner makes the show better," he said quietly. "It wasn't just for me."</p><p>She tipped back to smile at him. "We talked it out. I'd been wanting to try for a while, and I felt safe with him. We both got what we wanted out of that experience. I can't wait to try again." She stroked his arm and tattoos, the snake's tongue sliding out to flick between the twinkling stars. "The wax and the rest."</p><p>"I do hope I'll be available to watch," Madame Berkely said. "I was called away this time to deal with a patron in need. I had to leave quickly."</p><p>Hermione tipped her head curiously. "The rulebook says you'll be there within ten seconds if a safeword is called. It's a big house. Surely you don't run." She pointed one finger down at the woman's incredibly sharp stilettos. "Not in those."</p><p>Madame Berkely laughed and touched the silver rose pinned to her dress. "I Apparate. Select members of staff are the only ones who can inside the house. Very important to move fast, if we hear a safeword call. The only place currently off-limits is the tower, after a fire we had last year. The stairs were damaged, and I don't allow guests or employees up."</p><p>"That's a shame," Draco said. "I never did get to reserve the tower room." </p><p>"Maybe next year, once repairs are finished." Madame Berkely looked at them for a long moment, then her dark eyes sparkled. "You'll have a chance. I suspect you'll be coming together to my house for a long time. Now, I'll be going. I feel satisfied your recovery is properly handled. Safety is one of the watchwords of the house. Enjoy the rest of your evening."</p><p>She nodded to them both and swept out, shutting the door behind her.</p><p>Hermione turned to Draco. "I thought she was coming to check whether you'd hurt me," she said quietly. "After the questions she asked the first time I met her. I didn't like the implications. I'm glad I was wrong."</p><p>Draco shrugged one shoulder. "No, that was routine. I didn't expect we'd need to come here or I'd have told you before. I thought the most post-play care you might need tonight was getting wax out of your hair. But you surprised me."</p><p>"I surprised myself. Fainted, honestly. And we weren't even doing anything dangerous."</p><p>"You should see the checklist they go through if you need to use the recovery rooms after a shibari session. Parks would—" Draco cut himself off and shook his head, color rising in his cheeks. "Well," he muttered. "Smooth, Malfoy. There's no gentlemanly way to get out of that."</p><p>Hermione grinned, moving to stand between his knees. "Oh, it's not as though she doesn't give me details on her own. She has no shame about that. It was a little embarrassing before I got used to it, when she first married Harry, but I have to admit it was rather useful in recent months to have your ex-girlfriend around to gleefully give tips and tricks to your current girlfriend."</p><p>Draco acknowledged the comment with a wrinkle of his nose. He took her hand and his expression shifted, turning more serious. "I have to correct you on one point. 'Current girlfriend' implies I might have a different one in the near future. That's not part of my plans."</p><p>The look in his eyes made her shiver. It made her think of dreams and wants, of all the things she'd imagined: gold rings and moonlit dances, tiny dimpled toddlers and infants with pale grey eyes. She remembered his questions to her after he'd been injured, how he'd cupped her face and asked her where their children were. She wondered if he pictured them with white-blond strands or with unruly dark curls.</p><p>Her hand shook as she cupped his cheek and she leaned in. "List of one," she whispered.</p><p>Draco kissed her. He kissed her softly, like he was afraid she'd break if he pressed too hard. He kissed her like it was the first time he'd ever kissed a woman, tentative and shaking. When he drew back, his breath came out in a quiver and his eyes gleamed like silver. "List of one."</p><p>Hermione ran her fingers through his hair to his nape. She pressed the hollow of his skull, where the muscles would be tight if he was locked in a memory. She pressed three times, looking deep into his eyes. "Take me home," she said. "Make love to me in the bed you've only shared with me."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Chapter 26</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco flicked his wand and attached a row of sketches to the top of the evidence wall. He'd spent the morning with the department artist, giving descriptions, and then spent most of the afternoon comparing the preliminary composites to his memory. </p>
<p>He stepped back and folded his arms, wand tapping against his shoulder as he examined the seven sketches. All of them were men he had seen at the Thorned Rose on multiple occasions and all fit the general profile of the killer. </p>
<p>Draco went over the nights in his thoughts: the introductory visit with Hermione, when she'd bitten his neck and left her mark behind; the night they'd watched the wax while he fingered her and she'd later sucked him off; the night of the Rose Ball, when they'd played together and he'd teased her over and over before returning to his suite, where they'd made love for hours; and finally, the previous Saturday, when he'd coated her in wax and claimed her publicly, giving her such an intense experience that she'd fainted.</p>
<p>Before he could let those memories distract him entirely from his work, he put them away in his mind and refocused on the sketches. Four of the men were patrons of the club, and he remembered them watching him with Hermione. The other three were employees.</p>
<p>"Suspects, Sarge?" Choudhury asked, coming up to stand beside him with Cotterill following. "Are we going to bring them in for interviews?"</p>
<p>Draco rubbed his jaw, then shook his head. "I don't actually believe we'll need to question most of them, but I'm not eliminating them entirely, not yet. I don't want even the slightest hint of shoddy investigative work touching this case. They're all possibilities, even if remote, and that's why they're on the list."</p>
<p>The trainees looked at each other, holding a conversation in shifts of expression and tilts of their heads. Cotterill appeared to lose the silent argument, and she sighed. "Sarge. Is there a possibility the killer is someone you're ... acquainted with? Maybe even someone you're friendly with? Because—"</p>
<p>Draco tapped his left arm, lifting a brow. "Because he's killing Muggle-borns, the main goal of my former acquaintances."</p>
<p>Cotterill flushed and looked away. "I had to ask."</p>
<p>"Yes. And I would have done the same. Don't be afraid to ask the uncomfortable questions. You can't allow personal feelings to interfere with your duties." Draco caught Hermione's eye as she walked into the conference room and he moved away from the evidence wall, exposing the sketch at the end of the row. "Meet my primary suspect."</p>
<p>When she realized who it was, Hermione made a face, somewhere between surprise and expectation. "I told you he'd been following me that week."</p>
<p>Draco nodded. He went to the long table, gesturing the trainees to join them, and pushed folders to each of them. "Edward Jessup, alias Geoffrey Barrington, Arthur Frith, Thomas Coleman. Pickpocket, mostly, with a few other petty crimes to his record. Stepped it up in June 1998 when he was arrested for assaulting John Allen and Ava Kelly, a mixed-blood couple. Sentenced to a year in Azkaban, which is when I first made his acquaintance, so you were right to ask, Cotterill. He wasn't exactly in my circles, but I knew him."</p>
<p>Cotterill drummed her fingers on the table. "Bit of a jump to murder from pickpocketing. Usually there's something to send them over the edge."</p>
<p>"Last page of the profile. The murder from the eighties that Hermione found. Fern Burke was killed by an ex-boyfriend, first name probably starting with a vowel." He pointed to the sketch. "My working theory is that Edward Jessup was her ex, and he killed her out of rage that she'd left him for a Muggle-born."</p>
<p>Draco twirled his wand through his fingers as he paced along the evidence wall. "The first of the recent murders was a few weeks after Potter and Parkinson got married. I believe their wedding was the triggering incident. Very likely his interpretation was that a pure-blood woman rejected her upbringing and left her pure-blood boyfriend for a half-blood. It was too similar to his own circumstances, and it created his need to stop any other mixed-blood couples, keep them from tainting blood lines any further. But he couldn't bring himself to kill another pure-blood woman, to destroy the women who are supposed to carry on the blood into the next generation. So he started killing Muggle-born women instead."</p>
<p>He stopped behind Hermione's chair, his hand on her shoulder. "After Hermione and I started publicly dating, the lag time between murders decreased. He was even more outraged. Not only had I—" He cleared his throat and tapped the back of Hermione's neck three times with his thumb. She reached up to pat his hand, three times. Draco took a breath and continued pacing. "Not only had Pansy kicked me aside for Potter, in turn I had taken up with Hermione. One of the most staunch blood purists in England had fallen. His message wasn't getting out there. He had to kill more."</p>
<p>"Why'd you make him a CI?" Hermione asked. "If he's a suspect?"</p>
<p>Draco pretended to be reading his file for a moment. He'd been angry with the man for the things said about Hermione, the insults and names, and he'd been looking for a little revenge for the pocketwatch incident. They weren't justifiable reasons, and he knew it, and if they were made public, he'd deserve to be written up at the very least. But he did have a few reasons that he could put in a report and those were the ones he would use, if he was questioned. The club had a link to a killer and it was well within the scope of his duties as an Auror to turn one of its employees.</p>
<p>Not that he had.</p>
<p>"I didn't," he said.</p>
<p>Hermione wrinkled her forehead. "You told me you did. At the cafe. You said he was probably looking for you to give you a report."</p>
<p>"I never filed the paperwork to make it official. I ... convinced him to agree to it, and I told you—yes, I lied to you." Draco ground his teeth as Hermione gave him a look that promised an uncomfortable conversation at a later time. "Ask Potter. He won't know anything about it and not because he never reads paperwork. I wanted you to think Jessup was a CI so you would act natural around him, so I lied. But you'll note that I haven't actually received a single CI report from him. It's not as though the department is going to have to give him any compensation." </p>
<p>He looked at his trainees. "More than a bit shaky, policy-wise, to do that, so don't let me catch either of you trying it. I wanted him aware that I was looking into the case. At the time, he wasn't high enough on my list of suspects and I wanted him to move up. I needed him to feel as though I was going the wrong direction, looking away from him, but it was risky."</p>
<p>"He does fit with what we've seen so far. Good theory," Cotterill said. </p>
<p>"But it's only a theory. It's an idea with nothing definite behind it. The department <em>cannot</em> operate on hunches and feelings, no matter how much we'd like to. Solid investigative work, solid evidence. I believe he's responsible, but as much as I'd like to say definitively he's our man, I can't prove it. I left a handkerchief at his flat, hoping he'd plant it at the next body drop, try to make it look like I was the killer, but no joy. Bastard," he muttered. "The one time he <em>doesn't</em> decide to pin one of his crimes on me."</p>
<p>Cotterill and Choudhury gave him odd looks and Draco shook his head. "Never mind. Hermione and I are going to be doing a few things this week to attract his attention, see if he charges the hoops."</p>
<p>"You want us lurking in the shadows, Sarge?" Choudhury sat up, her eyes shining. "Following you to see if he's also following you?"</p>
<p>"I really don't think that's necessary," Hermione said. "None of the victims have been taken when they were with someone they knew. Coworkers, friends, boyfriends and husbands? No. He waited until they were separated from their support group."</p>
<p>"Agreed," Draco said. "And I don't want anything to throw him off. I <em>want</em> him following us. Right now, the only verifiable points I have against him are that I saw a newspaper article in his flat about Pansy's wedding with Potter's face scratched out, that he's called me and my girlfriend a few nasty names, and that he assaulted a mixed-blood couple ten years ago. It's not enough to go on and I'd send down any Auror who brought me that little."</p>
<p>"So you're going to goad him," Cotterill said. "If I were you, I'd act like I didn't want to let her out of my sight. Couldn't keep my hands off her. Maybe see if he tries to get me away from her, talk to her when I'm not looking." </p>
<p>Choudhury leaned back in her chair. She looked at Hermione. "And if I were <em>you</em>, I might act a little disgruntled with Sarge. Like he's being overbearing, keeping me too close. Strike up a conversation with someone about how I couldn't wait to take a mini-break without him, and make sure I'm overheard."</p>
<p>Draco smiled. "Exactly the plan. Good work, Auror trainees. You make me proud."</p>
<hr/>
<p>In the bookshop the next day, Hermione moved up the stairs and leaned over the rail to drape her arms on Draco's shoulders. In that position, she was a couple of inches taller than him and could see clearly across the bottom floor of the shop. </p>
<p>"Anything?" Draco said, his lips barely moving.</p>
<p>She put on a mischievous expression, acting as if she was whispering naughty things into his ear. "I see him," she murmured. "He's two aisles over and moving closer. Back to his usual hair instead of that awful toupee, so either he doesn't care if I recognize him or he's counting on it."</p>
<p>Draco made a quiet noise and tipped his head back. He kept his voice soft. "Confirmed. He's watching. You know what to do." </p>
<p>Hermione gave a laugh and rubbed both hands over Draco's chest. "You know you didn't have to come with me." From the quiet hiss Draco made, she'd spoken a little too loudly, and Hermione adjusted her volume. "I come here every Tuesday. It's not as though I'd get lost."</p>
<p>Draco held one of her hands. "I have plenty of free time. I can spend all of it with you." He turned his head and smiled at her before kissing her cheek. "Don't you like it when I spend time with you?"</p>
<p>"Of course I do. But I don't want us to be one of those couples who can't be apart." Hermione watched Geoffrey hold a large book on succulents up in front of his face as he circled around the edge of a shelf to duck into the next aisle. She managed not to roll her eyes as she made a show of tugging at her hand in Draco's grip, her other hand triple-tapping on his sternum. "We're allowed to have separate interests."</p>
<p>"I prefer our shared interests." Draco tightened his hold on her hand, then slowly released her fingers. He turned to face her, a hint of a smile curling his mouth at one corner. "And you know exactly what interests I mean, don't you?"</p>
<p>They were acting, as much as they'd been at the beginning of the investigation, but it didn't stop Hermione's heart from pounding at the way Draco smiled at her. That was his promising, teasing smile, the one that made her want to drop to her knees and open her mouth. She slumped forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and taking the shell of his ear between her teeth. "I'm supposed to be trying to get you to leave me alone for five minutes," she muttered between tugs. "Not thinking of ways to get the shop clerks to look away while I sneak you into the stock room."</p>
<p>Draco's voice dropped to a growl. "Only fair. Every time I've seen you for the past three years, I've been thinking of ways to sneak off with you. That dark corner of the archives has featured in my fantasies rather often."</p>
<p>Hermione shoved both hands into his hair, tipped his head back, and kissed him. Draco made that throaty sound that drove her insane. She deepened the kiss, sweeping her tongue across his mouth and inside, trying to get him to make that sound again. </p>
<p>He did.</p>
<p>By the time she lifted her head, Draco's face had gone pink, his eyes had turned dark, and his hands were shaking on the stair rail. "So that's what it's like to get kissed by someone taller than you," he mumbled.</p>
<p>Hermione hid a laugh as she smoothed his hair into place. "Nice, isn't it? I won't try to pick you up, though. Neither of us needs a concussion today."</p>
<p>"No. Supposed to be keeping our wits about us." Draco smiled at her and slowly lifted one brow. He brushed the lowest button on his suit jacket as his smile turned wicked. "But you do make it incredibly hard."</p>
<p>Her laugh echoed in the shop, forcing several patrons to give her nasty looks. Hermione clapped one hand over her mouth and climbed the steps away from Draco before grinning at him. "You're awful. Go look at Quidditch biographies or something. I'm going up to Muggle Studies and there's nothing up there you want to read."</p>
<p>Over Draco's head, she saw Geoffrey glance toward them. </p>
<p>Draco sniffed. "You're right about that," he said as he tapped three times on the railing. He threw a wink at her before turning to head deeper into the shop. </p>
<p>Geoffrey hid behind his book again as Draco passed him. Hermione watched from behind a pillar at the top of the stairs as Geoffrey waited a few seconds, then dropped his succulents book on a table. </p>
<p>Hermione moved once she was certain Geoffrey was following her up. She sauntered along the rows, pretending to be distracted by displays, pausing to examine books on the endcaps, each time flicking a glance back to be sure he was still on her tail. Her long, loose hair was an advantage, giving her a curtain to disguise the direction of her eyes. She rubbed the band of the greyhound ring before stepping into an aisle.</p>
<p>Humming to herself, Hermione dragged her fingers along a shelf as she examined the book spines. Most of the titles were ones she'd either read previously or looked at and discarded as full of ridiculous and outdated information about Muggles, but a new book caught her eye. <i>The Pitfalls and Perks of Muggle-Magical Relationships.</i></p>
<p>Hermione pulled it off the shelf and flipped it over to read the pull quotes on the back. A few of the names she recognized and trusted, and she opened the book to the table of contents. </p>
<p>Several minutes later, she was most of the way through the first chapter, completely engrossed in the writing style, and already plotting to buy the book and everything else the author had written as well. She closed the book and turned.</p>
<p>Geoffrey stood inches from her.</p>
<p>Hermione clutched the book to her chest, not needing to fake the sudden rush of her heart or her widened eyes. "You startled me!"</p>
<p>"Do pardon me, miss," Geoffrey said, smiling wide enough to show his teeth. "Apologies. I just wanted to say hello."</p>
<p>Reminding herself of the part she was supposed to be playing, Hermione caught her bottom lip in her teeth and leaned a little closer. "Are you supposed to do that? Interact with, um." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Club guests. Outside of Chaswell House."</p>
<p>"Madam has no rules against it. And it's not as though you hide your identity there. Hermione Granger, famous Mu—Muggle-born."</p>
<p>She curled her fingers tighter around the book. He'd tried to conceal the hesitation on the word with a cough, but she'd heard what he didn't say. The scar under her sleeve tingled. She forced a smile. "Well. In that case, hello."</p>
<p>Geoffrey hooked one finger over the top of the book, pulling it away from her chest to peer at the title. He tutted. "Having to read up on ways to make your relationship with Mr Malfoy work? I can't say that's a good sign so early."</p>
<p>"We've been together for more than a year," Hermione said easily. She'd gone over their backstory with Draco again, filling in holes and propping up details. She couldn't remember as well as he could, but she was sure she knew it enough to fool most people. "Had all the early fights and adjustments already. We don't have any problems."</p>
<p>Geoffrey sucked his teeth. "Are you certain of that?" </p>
<p>"Of course." She put the slightest lilt on her words, turning it into the barest hint of a question.</p>
<p>"It's only—no. Perhaps I shouldn't say. It's not my place."</p>
<p>She knew that she should take a step closer, encouraging Geoffrey to lean in and whisper to her, but she couldn't force herself to move. He'd already brushed her fingers when he moved the book, and very nearly touched her breast in the process. Instead, she lowered her chin and looked at Geoffrey through her lashes, copying one of her archive clerks like she'd done with Mopsa at the jewelry shop. "Go on," she said with a breathy anticipation. "If you know something I should know, tell me."</p>
<p>Geoffrey edged closer, his hand sliding behind her along the bookshelf. "There are people who dislike these kinds of relationships," he said. "They can cause trouble."</p>
<p>"Oh. Well. Yes. We have run across some people who are unhappy with us. They accused me of stealing him from proper pure-blood women. Tainting him. One man even called him a—I can't say it. It's too awful a word. But I've never seen Draco get that angry. I was actually a little scared of him," she said, letting her voice shake.</p>
<p>Geoffrey's eyes flashed, his face twisting for a moment. "He deserved it."</p>
<p>"What was that?"</p>
<p>"The man Mr Malfoy was angry with," Geoffrey said. He smiled tightly. "I'm sure he deserved it."</p>
<p>"Granger, you still up here?" Draco called from the direction of the stairs.</p>
<p>"Nice to see you, if you'll excuse me, must move along, places to go." Geoffrey hurried the opposite way, disappearing into the twisting warren of the bookshelves at the rear of the upper floor.</p>
<p>Hermione fled the aisle. She rushed straight to Draco, her face buried in his chest. Shoving one hand up the back of his suit jacket, she clung to his wand harness. </p>
<p>Draco wrapped his arms around her. "Are you all right?"</p>
<p>"Yes. No. I don't—" Hermione shivered and turned her head to press her ear to Draco's chest, listening to his heartbeat. "He gave me the creeps. Knowing he's your prime suspect, it changes things."</p>
<p>Draco pressed her closer to him, one hand sliding beneath her hair to cradle her nape. Slowly, over and over, he triple-tapped on her neck, and Hermione felt herself calming down with each set of taps. She stood in his embrace until her skin stopped crawling, then exhaled sharply and released her grip on his harness. Stepping back, she looked up at Draco. "If he's not our killer, can you arrest him anyway? Just for general ickiness?"</p>
<p>"I don't remember an 'ickiness' charge on the books but I'll see what I can do." </p>
<p>"That toupee alone ought to be a breach of the peace."</p>
<p>"Good god, agreed." Draco shook his head. He tapped the book she was holding. "What do you have there?"</p>
<p>Hermione held it so he could read the title. "It's good. I'm going to get it."</p>
<p>Draco tipped his head, considering the book, then smiled at her. "Hope we have more perks than pitfalls."</p>
<p>She smiled and took his hand, tugging him toward the stairs. "So far, yes."</p>
<hr/>
<p>Thursday afternoon, Hermione stopped on the pavement at the cafe next to the greengrocer and turned to face Draco with a huff. He squeezed her hand, their triple signal, and put on an expression of annoyance. She returned the look. "You don't have to go in with me," she said. "I'm a grown woman, Draco Malfoy. I'm fully capable of picking up a few groceries on my own."</p>
<p>"So you don't want me near you now? Is that the problem?" </p>
<p>"You don't have to go <em>everywhere</em> with me. Bookshop, grocer. Lunch every day this week. What are you going to do, escort me to my gyno tomorrow? If there's one thing that I <em>don't</em> need my boyfriend for, it's getting a speculum shoved up me. Especially since the entire reason I had to get an appointment is because someone offensively tall managed to bruise me on the inside."</p>
<p>Draco looked away, a flicker of true guilt crossing his face. They'd had sex the night before, the first time in several days, and Draco had been almost uncomfortably gentle with her. Not with foreplay or teasing, not with getting her wet and relaxed. He'd touched her, kissed her, marked and bitten her with full passion but once he'd slid inside her, he'd gone beyond his usual consideration for their size difference. He'd refused to go deep, even aggravating his old shoulder injury in his efforts to hold himself back. She'd begged him for more and he'd still been careful.</p>
<p>Hermione tapped the inside of his wrist, three sets of three. "I love you," she whispered, barely making a sound. "I'm okay."</p>
<p>Raising her voice for the show of it, and slightly disappointed that Skeeter and her photographer weren't lurking around for another magazine cover, Hermione glared up at Draco. "Unless you want to be the one up on the table, Malfoy? Don't think they have stirrups that'll fit you but I can have Dr Karoshi give it a go. We can see if you'll scream loud enough to disturb all of Harley Street."</p>
<p>Draco grimaced and pulled his silver cigarette case from his pocket. He lit one with a snap of his fingers and exhaled the smoke directly at her. "Fine. You're fully capable of handling yourself, you're making that clear. I'll be out here, then."</p>
<p>Coughing and waving smoke away from her face, Hermione didn't need to fake the aggravation in her voice. "Excellent idea. Get a coffee. Smoke. Leave me alone for ten bloody minutes."</p>
<p>Turning deliberately fast so that her hair smacked him in the arm, Hermione headed into the greengrocer. She grabbed a basket from the stack, shoved the handles over her arm, and grumbled as she went to the fruit section at the rear of the shop. </p>
<p>Plums, peaches, nectarines, apricots. Raspberries, blackberries. Cherries, grapes. She picked through them, selecting several fruits for breakfast and Pansy's baking.</p>
<p>Pansy had wanted a mango for a new filling she wanted to try, and Hermione stood in front of the display, eyes narrowed as she tried to remember what was the sign of a ripe mango. Was it the color of the skin or the give of the flesh? She stood there, gently rolling one in her hands, considering it.</p>
<p>"Miss Granger," she heard, and she squeezed the mango so tightly she left indents in the skin. Sighing, she dropped it into her basket. She was buying it now.</p>
<p>She gave a quick nod to Geoffrey, laughing as if she were teasing him. "We meet again. I'm starting to think you're following me!"</p>
<p>Geoffrey's eyes flickered but he didn't respond. He leaned over the mangos in front of her, plucking one from the far side of the display. "This one," he said. He took hold of her basket and gently set the mango in it. "Seems like it isn't ready, but if you keep it for a couple of days, it'll be perfect for whatever you want."</p>
<p>There was nothing wrong with the words, but the way he said them made Hermione want to jump away from him. As much as she hated to acknowledge it, Draco had been right to lie to her about his fake CI recruitment of Geoffrey. Now that she knew the man was the most likely suspect, it was harder to treat him like any other acquaintance. Knowing that she was standing next to a man who had possibly murdered six Muggle-born women made her want to hex him through the nearest wall.</p>
<p>She shook herself internally. "Thanks. I didn't know which one to pick. It's for my friend."</p>
<p>"Not for a private dinner with Mr Malfoy?"</p>
<p>Hermione gave a deep, grumbling sigh. "A private dinner <em>without</em> him. He's barely given me five minutes to breathe by myself this week. But that's—" </p>
<p>She waved her hand dismissively. "Sorry. That's too much. Draco's outside smoking if you were looking for him. You know, for your CI report?" she added in a lower voice. "Give him somebody else to talk to for once."</p>
<p>She strolled to the section of the shop with the greens, expecting Geoffrey to follow her. The plan was to make him think she was disgruntled with Draco, to make him think that she was planning to take off alone for the weekend, and from the way his face had shifted when she said 'by myself', he was already intrigued. </p>
<p>She idly rubbed a leaf of watercress between her fingers, as if she was thinking about it and nothing else. Within a minute, Geoffrey shuffled up beside her. "I don't mean to be rude, Miss Granger," he said in a low and oily voice. "But there's something I need to tell you. If you're having difficulties with Mr Malfoy, it might have bearing on your situation."</p>
<p>"You mean other than him being a posh prat who always thinks he's right and if he's not, his money will make him right?"</p>
<p>Geoffrey gave one of the nastiest laughs she'd ever heard. It made the hairs on her nape stand up. She took a tighter grip on her basket, holding it flush against her stomach. "What is it?" she asked. "What do you know?"</p>
<p>"It's not his money. It's his attitude." Geoffrey moved closer, his arm brushing her shoulder. "Last weekend, at the club. I encountered him while he was taking you away from the play rooms. He was rather abrupt. As if he didn't want anyone to know where he was going with you. He immediately dismissed any idea of me assisting you to the infirmary, and he was very ... possessive? I'm afraid he does have a bit of a reputation in Chaswell House for refusing to let anyone near his partners."</p>
<p>"Well, that's—" Hermione shook her head, tucking a bit of hair behind her ear. She loosened her stance, picking up a bundle of watercress and adding it to her basket. She moved down to the next section, red and green lettuces. "Yes, he's a little possessive, but he told me he's just making sure no one tries to push me for more than I want, at the club. He knows I'm still new to it. So he's protecting me."</p>
<p>Geoffrey kept pace with her, standing close enough that his breath stirred her hair. "Or is he isolating you? Miss, I don't want to frighten you, but I've seen this before. You said it yourself, he's barely left you alone this week."</p>
<p>Hermione ground her teeth as she pretended to concentrate on the thick, deep green leaves of a head of round lettuce. She faked a tinkling laugh. "No, no, that's silly. Isolating me, no. He's not like that. He wasn't even the least bit stroppy about me having a mini-break this weekend."</p>
<p>Geoffrey went still for a moment. Hermione watched from the corner of her eye as he gripped the edge of the display stand, fingers moving as if he were wringing out a flannel. "Taking a few days to yourself?"</p>
<p>"Going to York!" She put the head of lettuce in her basket and smiled at Geoffrey. "I'm going to take the train from King's Cross and stay in the hotel where my parents met. A dentists' convention, if you can believe that."</p>
<p>"Sounds like you're going to have a wonderful time. Hope nothing happens to derail your plans." Geoffrey gave a large, wet chuckle, then stepped back. "I should be off. Working tonight and Madame already gave me a second chance when she hired me. Don't think I'll push for a third."</p>
<p>Hermione watched him head for the door. Setting her basket down, she dug a handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped her hands repeatedly. He hadn't touched her, but she felt slimy. His conversation had been artless and intrusive, but she could see how someone who wasn't on their guard would easily give him plenty of information. </p>
<p>She took her shopping to the front, paid, and carried the bag outside. "Take this," she said, holding the bag out to Draco. "Success."</p>
<p>Draco pushed off the wall. "Good. I was about to come in after you. I was debating whether I should cause a scene by snogging you in front of the carrots or if I should complain about the price of grapes."</p>
<p>Hermione snorted. "They're marked down this week."</p>
<p>"Then I'd complain even more." Draco put his arm around her. He rubbed the back of her neck, three taps on the knob of her spine, and spoke quietly. "Do you need to take a minute? You were fairly rattled last time we saw him."</p>
<p>"No, I'm all right. I was concentrating on the plan and that helped. Plus, knowing that you were waiting for me, that helped even more." She smiled up at him. "He knows I'm taking a mini-break this weekend. And he warned me that you're known to be possessive."</p>
<p>"He's not wrong. I don't share."</p>
<p>"I know." Hermione went up on her toes, kissing Draco's jaw when he automatically bent down for her. "And I like it. Because I'm not sharing you with anyone, either. Now let's go to the apothecary. Stick to my routine."</p>
<p>"And then back to yours for dinner. Pansy said she had a new recipe?" He snapped his fingers. "Did you get the mango?"</p>
<p>"Two," Hermione said, patting the bag Draco had slung over his shoulder. "She'll have her choice."</p>
<hr/>
<p>After work Friday evening, Draco sprawled across Blaise's new sofa. "Finally got longer furniture. Only took you ten years to be nice to your best friend."</p>
<p>"It's a bribe to get you to come over more often. You've been spending a lot of time with Granger. I'm feeling bereft and woeful." Blaise clutched his shirt collar and threw his head back. "Abandoned!"</p>
<p>"God, there was a reason I suggested you stop dating theatre people. It's teaching you horrible dramatic habits."</p>
<p>Pansy snorted and balanced a glass of whiskey on Draco's chest. She gave him a generous five seconds to grab it before she shoved his feet off the sofa and sat down. "You're one to talk about horrible dramatics, darling. Oh, professor, my arm is injured, look at my sling, I can't possibly cut up these roots."</p>
<p>"I was <em>thirteen</em>. You show me a third year who isn't unbelievably dramatic and I'll eat my Auror's badge."</p>
<p>Pansy sipped her drink. "I suppose I can't really be too put out about that. It did give me plenty of opportunities to fawn over you and tell you how wonderful you were for bearing up so well with such a terrible injury."</p>
<p>Draco gave her a suspicious look as he sat up in the middle of the sofa. "You did, didn't you?"</p>
<p>She smirked at him. "Got you to carry my books to class for the next two months even with a wounded arm. Think I won."</p>
<p>Laughing, he leaned over and kissed her temple. "Thank fuck Potter has to deal with you now."</p>
<p>Pansy preened. "And he does it very well, thank you. Best relationship I've ever had."</p>
<p>Draco turned to Blaise. "Is there a dagger in my spine? Check for me, would you?"</p>
<p>Pansy giggled bubbles into her drink. "Darling, don't even try it. You might love me, nearly thirty years of friendship will do that, but you were never in love with me. Not romantic, consuming, die in the same moment because you can't bear to be without me love. And I was never in love with you like that, either." She patted his cheek, smiling. "We'd have driven each other insane within a year if we'd been married, and you know it. At our best we were ... what was that Muggle phrase Hermione taught me? Friends with benefits, that's it."</p>
<p>"Damn good benefits, you have to give me that."</p>
<p>"Yes, I'll give you that. But love? No. That's what I have with Harry. Totally in love with that man and he treats me like a queen." She grinned. "And I have a sheer thing to convince him if he wavers."</p>
<p>Blaise thumped down on his other side. "Speaking of being wrapped around a woman's fingers, how's Granger?"</p>
<p>Draco stretched his legs out, tipped his head back, and smiled at the ceiling. "Fantastic."</p>
<p>"Look at him, Parks. Look at that grin. That's the way he was smiling when he came back to the dorms the first time you let him under your skirt."</p>
<p>"He does look as though he's finally getting some regular action, doesn't he?"</p>
<p>"He does. Stop that, Malfoy." Blaise slammed his fist onto Draco's thigh, then drew back, shaking his fingers. "Ow. I keep forgetting."</p>
<p>"Broom thighs," all three of them said at once.</p>
<p>Draco took a drink, absently spinning his signet ring. "Things are good. Better than good, really. Fantastic may be underselling it."</p>
<p>Blaise tipped over, his head falling onto Draco's shoulder. "But you won't forget about us once you've married her and had a half-dozen little blond terrors with extensive vocabularies, right?"</p>
<p>Draco snorted and shoved Blaise back. "I can only assume that if you really thought you were being neglected I'd end up with a red and gold lion on my face at my next tattooing."</p>
<p>"You're not entirely wrong." Blaise took a sketchbook from a nearby table. "I <em>have</em> been thinking of Granger-related concepts."</p>
<p>Pansy scrambled across Draco and plopped into Blaise's lap. "Give." </p>
<p>"Rude." He handed her the sketchbook, linking his arms around her as she opened it and held it up to block Draco's view. "Nothing Gryffindor-related. I wouldn't be that obvious."</p>
<p>"Says the man who put a <em>flame</em> on my leg to represent himself, <em>Blaise</em>." Draco rolled his eyes.</p>
<p>"Yes? Problem? I can always alter it to have my face right smack in the center of your calf."</p>
<p>"I think I'll stick with what I have, thanks. I'd never get laid again with your hideous features on my gorgeous body." Draco dodged as Blaise tried to smack the back of his head. They scuffled for a moment, though Blaise was careful to keep one arm around Pansy and stop her from falling onto the floor.</p>
<p>Pansy ignored them, turning pages. When she stopped and sucked in a long breath, both men went still. Pansy slowly twisted on Blaise's lap. She took a grip on his chin to stare into his eyes. "This one. <em>This</em>. You are doing this."</p>
<p>Draco took the sketchbook. </p>
<p>A flutter like book pages moving in the wind, resting on a wash of green and blue. Waves of dark curls, and a constellation, the stars sparkling in flecks of gold. </p>
<p>Draco traced the air over the watercolor painting, not wanting to touch the page and possibly ruin it. It was a perfect representation of Hermione. He tried to praise the sheer artistry in it but couldn't seem to speak. All he could do was stare at it in awe.</p>
<p>After a few moments, Blaise's face darkened, a hint of burgundy rising on his high cheekbones. "It's nothing. It's a new style. Just trying something out. I know, it has color and you don't like color in your ink, but I thought—look, you're not saying—you don't have to—"</p>
<p>Draco reached out without looking and put his hand over Blaise's mouth. "Parks. Where should he put it?"</p>
<p>"Over your heart, darling. Where else?"</p>
<p>Blaise pulled Draco's hand down with a tight grip on his fingers. "You like it?"</p>
<p>"It's beautiful. Just like her. I'll pay whatever you want."</p>
<p>Blaise took the sketchbook and gently set it on the low table next to the sofa. "Bring her to the studio some time. Let her see it first." He flashed a grin at Draco. "If it's about her, she should get to approve it, right?"</p>
<p>"Always her choice." Draco drained his whiskey and set the glass on the floor to stretch. "Once the case is closed and we've made a few more decisions about our relationship, we'll see."</p>
<p>"And you need to let me do a little work on the dragon. I think I can get his tail to wrap completely around your waist. I've been testing a few charms. Eventually I want to get him to climb up over your shoulder and back to place."</p>
<p>"Maybe. Not this weekend, though. We're setting a trap."</p>
<p>"Getting closer, then?" Pansy asked, pushing off her shoes to wiggle her toes at Draco.</p>
<p>He took one of her feet and pressed both thumbs into her instep, rubbing in familiar, unconscious patterns. "She's faking a mini-break. Getting on a train in the morning, heading up to York. Going full Muggle. My trainees are set to tail her and I'm borrowing a couple of men from squad three to help out. I stand out too much."</p>
<p>Blaise snorted. "<em>No</em>. People notice you? I never would have guessed."</p>
<p>"He's very unobtrusive," Pansy said, her eyes drifting closed as Draco continued massaging her feet. "Six-four. Italian suits. Tattoos. Blends right in to the crowd. It's why he's an exhibitionist. Get all the attention. He's afraid no one will look at him otherwise."</p>
<p>She opened one eye and stared at Draco. "And now that I've mentioned your deviant sexual practices, have you two gone full exhibition at the club yet?"</p>
<p>"None of your business."</p>
<p>"That's a yes," Blaise said. </p>
<p>Pansy grinned. "Is it true she doesn't have a gag reflex?"</p>
<p>Draco's face instantly heated a bright pink.</p>
<p>Blaise howled. "That is <em>definitely</em> a yes."</p>
<p>"I hate you both. I'm getting new friends." Draco paused long enough for both Blaise and Pansy to make faces at him, then gave them a deep and wicked smile. "Yes, it's true."</p>
<p>Blaise whistled. "Impressive. Never break up with her."</p>
<p>"No intentions of doing so. I'm not sure what this emotion I've been having recently is, but it might be happiness. I don't want to scare it off."</p>
<p>Pansy moved back to the empty seat on the sofa. "It is happiness. You're happy. I'm happy for you. <em>We're</em> happy for you. You have a perfect life."</p>
<p>"I don't know about that," Draco started.</p>
<p>Pansy patted his cheek. "Darling. You're in love with the woman you've wanted for years. And she loves you back. And from what I've heard, you have amazing sex."</p>
<p>"Your sentence is completely cleared," Blaise said. "You're off the Dark wizards list. And you got promoted, Auror Sergeant Malfoy."</p>
<p>"But most importantly, you have us!" Pansy gestured to herself and to Blaise. "The two best friends in the whole world. What else would define a perfect life?"</p>
<p>Draco smiled. He settled back into the sofa and Blaise and Pansy leaned against his sides, each of them taking one of his hands, then reaching across him to take each other's, linking the three of them together in a circle. He remembered several nights in the Slytherin common room, when they'd sat like this watching the fire, their support keeping him sane as he tried to complete his mission.</p>
<p>He had his freedom. He had his most trusted friends. And he finally had Hermione, his lover and his love.</p>
<p>Draco closed his eyes and nodded. "I can't argue," he said quietly, squeezing their hands. "Everything's almost perfect."</p>
<p>And once the rope killer was in Azkaban, he could remove that 'almost' from his life.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Chapter 27</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It would have taken her half an hour to walk to Harley Street from the Leaky Cauldron, but she'd thought that being out on the streets, even Muggle streets, was a bad idea under the circumstances. She'd decided to enter London through the pub, where she planned to flag down a black cab and be delivered to her doctor's office no more than ten minutes later, even with Friday's post-business hours traffic.</p><p>She'd never thought for a moment that it wouldn't matter how long she was out or what street she was on.</p><p>She stopped on the pavement outside her doctor's building as a gust of wind caught her hair and the flowing skirt of her dress. She turned to pull her hair out of her face, and— </p><p>And— </p><p>And everything went calm and dreamy and relaxed.</p><p>"Don't speak unless told. Come with me. Don't struggle."</p><p>It was a lovely day to take a walk. She strolled down Harley Street, a charming older man beside her with his arm around her shoulders.</p><p>
  <i>Geoffrey, it's Geoffrey, shake him off, get away.</i>
</p><p>Her arm twitched and she took a step sideways. The man pulled her back, his bared teeth gleaming. "Not so fast. You're not going anywhere. Had to ask a dozen stupid Muggles for directions so I knew where to wait for you. I'm not chasing you any more than I have to. Thanks, by the way, for being so loud while you were arguing with Malfoy. Karoshi on Harley Street? Just shouted it right out, didn't you? Made this a little easier. Say you're welcome."</p><p>"You're welcome."</p><p>
  <i>Tomorrow. This was supposed to happen tomorrow. The train station. Draco. Find Draco. Call Draco.</i>
</p><p>She slowly lifted her hand, eyes locked on the ring on her index finger. Her arm felt heavy, as if she were trying to raise it through treacle. The engraved greyhound faded out of focus. She opened her mouth and the only sound she could make was a croak.</p><p>The man laughed nastily, his fingers digging into her shoulder. "What do you think you're doing? Trying to wave for help? Listen to me, Mudblood. You're not doing <em>anything</em> I don't want you to do. Say I'm sorry, my Lord."</p><p>"I'm sorry, my Lord."</p><p>A tiny, shrieking voice in the back of her head howled at the words. She croaked again.</p><p>"Calm down."</p><p>She relaxed, her hand falling to her side. The man with her was charming. She wasn't going anywhere.</p><p>
  <i>Stop him, stop him. Get away. It's Geoffrey. Touch the ring. Call Draco!</i>
</p><p>"This way." The man tugged her into an entranceway, behind a plastic sheet flapping loose from a metal scaffold. He yanked her hard against his side and spun in place, Disapparating in a blur of weak, muddled color.</p><p>It was a lovely day.</p>
<hr/><p>"Wake up. Don't move."</p><p>She opened her eyes. The charming older man stood near an arched window, two wands in his hands.</p><p>Hermione twitched her fingers on the arms of a chair, threadbare velvet under her nails. She stared down at her hands. There was something she was supposed to do. Something she needed to say. There was a tiny howl in the back of her mind. </p><p>
  <i>Touch the ring. Say Draco's name. Call him. He'll come for you. Call him.</i>
</p><p>She ground one syllable between her teeth. "Dr—" </p><p>"Shut up, Mudblood," the charming man said. He turned around and tapped one wand in the air. The fireplace burst into life, lighting the room as he set the other wand on the stone ledge over the mantel. </p><p>Hermione's eyes flicked from side to side, taking in everything. Thick tapestries on the walls, a canopied bed, an empty cedar-lined wardrobe, a wide wooden table with a coil of rope and a black leather mask on one end, a ticking clock over the fireplace, ashes spilling onto the floor. </p><p>The man took a long black robe off the bed and held it out by the hood. "Stand up. Take this. Strip and put it on."</p><p>Hermione stood, took the robe, and lifted her free hand to the side zipper of her dress. The tiny voice in the back of her mind howled again. All her muscles tightened and she froze, left hand tight on the robe's hood, right arm crossing her body with her hand tight on the zipper pull. She stared at the man.</p><p>
  <i>No. No. No.</i>
</p><p>She clung to that little voice, grabbed on to the strength in its scream, and refused to move any further.</p><p>The man's charming smile twisted into a snarl. "Oh, look at that. Little Mudblood thinks she can defy me. What's the problem? Shy? After the things you've done, can't imagine why." His eyes glittered bright as the rose pinned to his collar when he moved closer to her. "Or maybe you think I'll throw you down on that bed and have my way with you? Think you've managed to seduce another pure-blood? Think again. I wouldn't touch your filth."</p><p>He circled around behind her, his hands clenched on her shoulders. "Not all of us have fallen as far as Malfoy," he hissed in her ear, his accent shifting as he spoke. "Some of us still have standards. But you were goin' to try anyway, weren't you? You're all alike."</p><p>The man shook her hard. "You would, wouldn't you? You'd offer me anything if I wouldn't kill you. Answer me."</p><p>"No," she said immediately. She couldn't stop herself from responding to his command. She looked down through her lashes at the greyhound ring, at the black robe tight in her fist. </p><p>
  <i>Drop the robe. Press the ring. Call Draco. Call him. Geoffrey has you. Fight.</i>
</p><p>"No, my Lord," the man snarled. "Say it."</p><p>"No, my Lord." The man hadn't ordered her to keep her answer short. He was so charming. She wanted to be helpful. It was a lovely night, the clock was ticking gently, and she was calm. "I wasn't going. Going to. No. Seduce. No."</p><p>"You were. That's what your kind does. You move in and get your filth over everything decent. Taint it and stain it. Disgusting." He shook her again before releasing her to walk around and look into her face. "You're disgusting, thinkin' you could seduce a pure-blood without consequences. You've tried it once and god knows how, you did it. He's a mud-fucker now. But you'll pay for what you've done. To him, to us. To all of us."</p><p>"No," she said. The clock ticked and chimed twice. "Love. In love. I love him. Loves me."</p><p>"Lies. You'll pay. All of you. Crawlin' in, separatin' proper respectable couples. Pure belongs with pure." He looked her up and down, sneering. "How'd you do it? He had to be weakened somehow."</p><p>He moved closer, leaning down until his nose nearly touched hers. "Yes, he was weak for you. Short, dark-haired, bitch. He's always had a type. All copies of one woman, ain't you?" His smile widened as he looked into her eyes. "You know we were in Azkaban together? He used to scream her name at night. That how you did it? Get him drunk and tell him Auntie Bella wanted playtime?"</p><p>Hermione shuddered. Geoffrey wasn't the only person to think that. She'd been terrified to ask Draco if that was part of the reason he feared Bellatrix so intently, if his aunt had forced him to learn more than Dark magic, but when he was telling her all of his secrets, she'd made herself ask if that was one of them. He'd been silent for long enough that she'd been afraid he would say yes, then he'd shivered and burrowed into her hair, kissing the back of her neck. <i>No. That was one thing she never did to me. She never went that far.</i></p><p>"No," Hermione croaked. "Never. He never. She didn't. <em>No</em>."</p><p>"No, my Lord." The man shoved her to her knees and stood over her, sneering down at her. "Say it."</p><p>"No, my Lord."</p><p>He laughed. "Maybe that's why Malfoy likes you. He don't ever play in the throne room, and he's perfect for it. I'm thinkin' maybe he don't need to. He had the mask and the Mark, all he needed was the Mudblood. Say yes, my Lord."</p><p>"Yes, my Lord."</p><p>She lowered her eyes, the silver ring on her finger gleaming against the black fabric of the robe she still clutched. She wanted to move. The tiny voice in the back of her mind shrieked at her.</p><p>
  <i>Move your thumb. Press the ring. Call Draco.</i>
</p><p>"Petrichor!" called a panicked voice from the petals of the silver rose.</p><p>The charming man swore and backed away. "Don't speak and don't move," he ordered. He stepped into the wardrobe and disappeared.</p><p>Hermione didn't move. She didn't speak. The clock was ticking. It was a lovely night.</p>
<hr/><p>At four o'clock on Saturday morning, Draco stepped through the Floo at the townhouse. He brushed the Floo powder off his hands and went straight to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. He found Pansy already there, Harry's Gryffindor Quidditch jersey hanging off one shoulder as she slumped against the fridge with her eyes closed. </p><p>"Hangover, Parks?"</p><p>She grumbled and tipped the other direction to slump against him instead. "I can hear myself blink. My eyeballs keep making scratching noises. Why did you let me drink so much?"</p><p>"You threatened to turn me into a pocket-sized dragon to bake scones for you if I tried to stop you. Didn't think you could do it but better safe and all that." He took four mugs from the rack and lined them up on the counter: blue and gold for Hermione, extra-large and black for him, "World's Best Chosen One" for Harry, and dancing unicorns for Pansy. "Speaking of scones, any chance of them?"</p><p>The noise Pansy made was particularly rude and Draco grinned. "Go back to bed. The sun isn't even up. Can't fathom why you are."</p><p>"You know I can't go back to sleep once I'm up and Harry woke me stumbling around trying to find his glasses. I offered to make coffee so I didn't kill him." She tipped her head back and stared blearily at Draco. "Make coffee."</p><p>He guided her to take a seat at the table. "You want Parkinson-strength or Malfoy-strength?"</p><p>Pansy dropped her head onto her arms and grunted.</p><p>Draco set up the machine to his preferences and started it brewing. "I can't decide who wakes up worst in the mornings. You or Granger."</p><p>"Tough call," Harry said from the door. "Pansy's the most non-morning person I've ever met, but she's just snarly about it before coffee. Hermione will throw whatever's closest. You're lucky if it's just a pillow."</p><p>Draco looked at him. "You don't say."</p><p>"Camping," Harry said quickly. "Shared a tent."</p><p>"Hypocrite," Pansy muttered into her arms. She slowly lifted her head to make a face at him. "You don't get to be shirty that he might once have slept with your girlfriend when you used to regularly fuck his wife."</p><p>"That's not what I was—"</p><p>"Call me a liar, Draco Malfoy." Pansy sat up and yawned.</p><p>"No shirtiness at all. That would be remarkably hypocritical, I agree. I was going to say that she hasn't thrown anything at <em>me</em>, so clearly I keep her too exhausted to try it." Grinning as Harry made a face, Draco pointed one finger at Pansy. "You, on the other hand, used to pull my hair in your sleep, so on the balance, I'm once again glad Potter has to deal with you now." </p><p>"She still pulls." Harry took the seat beside her and put an arm around her shoulders when she leaned against him. He kissed her temple. "You want me to fix your coffee for you so you don't have to move?"</p><p>"Smart man. That's why I married you. Well, that and your undying devotion to me. But should we wait for Hermione?"</p><p>Draco shrugged. "Can't wait much longer. Need to get her up and moving or she'll miss her train and it'll throw everything off. I'll go upstairs and wake her and no comments about cacti from you, Potter."</p><p>Pansy went still as she and Harry exchanged a glance. </p><p>"She didn't come with you?" Harry asked.</p><p>"No," Draco said slowly. "Why would she have?"</p><p>"You left Blaise's flat hours before I did. Went home." Pansy drummed her nails on the table, a rapid staccato. "Blaise and I assumed Hermione was spending the night at the Manor and that's why you took off so quick, so you could get at least one round in before sleep."</p><p>"We both knew we'd need to get to sleep early," Draco said. He curled his hands around the edge of the counter, his spine stiffening. "We decided it wasn't the best idea to have her stay with me, considering. But if you haven't seen—Potter?"</p><p>"I thought she was with you, too." Harry looked at Draco, eyes narrowed. "Haven't seen her since I left the Ministry. She went to her appointment and I figured she was going to the Manor after she got back."</p><p>Draco's heart sped up. He bolted from the kitchen and upstairs to Hermione's room.</p><p>Her bed was made, unused. Her outfit for today - jeans and a bright yellow shirt, making it easier to spot a short woman in a crowd - was folded neatly on her chair. </p><p>Draco crossed to the bathroom and pushed the shower curtain aside, but he already knew it was futile. When he stepped back into her room, Harry was standing in the doorway, wand in his hand. "She never made it to the station, did she," Harry said flatly, no question in his voice. </p><p>Draco took his badge from his pocket and activated it. "Cotterill, Nicola Rachel. Choudhury, Naseem Paramsundari. Respond."</p><p>"Sarge!" Choudhury answered after a moment. "Caught us just in time. We're in place and waiting. No sign of Jessup yet, but all eyes are peeled."</p><p>"You haven't seen Hermione, have you," Draco confirmed, his eyes never leaving Harry's.</p><p>"No? She's not due for another hour. Did the timetable change?"</p><p>"Return to base."</p><p>"Sarge? Sarge, what's—"</p><p>"Return to base, forthwith." Draco took a deep breath, closed the connection, and immediately re-opened it. "Dispatch. Malfoy, Draco Lucius."</p><p>Pansy pushed past Harry to stand with Draco, taking his free hand in one of hers, stretching the other up to settle on the back of his neck. </p><p>Draco gripped her fingers as the dispatcher answered his call. It took him a moment to force his voice to work and despite his best efforts, it shook as he made his report. "Dispatch. All squads, all Aurors. Be on the lookout. Missing person, Granger, Hermione Jean. Out of contact for twelve hours. Possible abduction."</p>
<hr/><p>Draco paced across the bullpen, jaw tight, hands flexing at his sides. "Where is it?" he snapped at Cotterill. "The warrant! We have witnesses. Hermione was spotted in the Leaky Cauldron yesterday. She got into a taxi on the Muggle side and that was the last time a wizard laid eyes on her. Jessup was seen in the vicinity, and he's the prime suspect in the investigation. We have enough for a warrant, so what is taking so goddamn long?"</p><p>"They're working on it, Sarge." She held both hands out in a placating gesture, her eyes wide as she flicked a glance at Choudhury. "We'll get it."</p><p>"Malfoy!" Mandamus barked, emerging from Harry's office.</p><p>Draco spun on his heel. "Chief, he's had her for fuck knows how long now. I've been cooling my heels for more than an hour. How much longer are we going to suck the magistrate's dick before I get my warrant?"</p><p>"Watch your bloody tone with me, Auror Sergeant." Mandamus scratched his neck and eyed Draco. "You're not getting a warrant."</p><p>Draco drew himself up, inhaling sharply. "Chief, I—"</p><p>"Listen to me, Malfoy. You are <em>not</em> getting a warrant. And you know exactly why."</p><p>Harry gave him a resigned look. "Malfoy. You know this. You <em>know</em> the policy."</p><p>"No Auror may investigate any activity or incident in which they have a personal interest," Draco quoted. "Are you fucking kidding me? You, of all people, are going to tell me I can't get personally involved?"</p><p>"You're too close. You can't make a rational decision." Harry's eyes narrowed. "And you're proving it right this second."</p><p>"Exactly," Mandamus said. "It's too risky to have you on this. You're to turn over responsibility for the case to Parfitt and squad three. You may assist from base, but you will not be going into the field."</p><p>Draco ground his teeth, the muscles in his cheeks jumping. "Chief, this is insanity. You can't force me out."</p><p>Mandamus sighed. "Malfoy, you are compromised."</p><p>"Of course I'm fucking compromised. I love her!" His shout echoed through the department and the gathered Aurors rumbled. He stepped forward, fists clenched. The crowd's rumbles turned wary.</p><p>A wand hit his chest. Draco froze.</p><p>Harry stood in front of him, wand leveled at his heart, and met his eyes without blinking. "Malfoy. You're dangerously close to a suspension. We knew this was a possibility when we started using your relationship as bait. And we knew if something happened, you <em>would</em> be removed. The policy hasn't changed and it won't. Not for me, and not for you."</p><p>"I love her," Draco said more quietly. "You can't keep me away from this."</p><p>"I can. I will. I don't want to. I know you're worried. God, I wouldn't be handling it half as well if Pansy was missing. I'd be screaming and tearing the walls down. I get it. You're frightened and angry and I'm right there with you. I'm her friend; I'm your friend. But I am still Head Auror and I am telling you to <em>stand down</em>."</p><p>Draco held his stare. "Fuck you, Harry."</p><p>Harry's expression flickered into exasperation before hardening. "You cannot officially investigate your girlfriend's disappearance. You cannot officially pursue her alleged abductor. You cannot officially be involved in any of it." His grip on his wand firmed as he raised his chin. "That is a direct order, Auror Sergeant Malfoy."</p><p>Draco didn't move. He looked at Harry, cataloging the minute changes of his features, the angle of his head and the thin white line of his lips. Officially. Harry had been very clear to emphasize 'officially'. Department policy was also very clear. As an Auror, Draco could not be involved in finding Hermione.</p><p>He'd taken two oaths in his life that forbid him from refusing a direct order. His oath to the Dark Lord was only breakable in death, whether his or his master's. The Auror's oath didn't go that far, but it was still impossible for him to disobey. Draco Malfoy, Auror, couldn't be involved in the search. </p><p>Draco Malfoy, boyfriend, was a different story. He'd made far different oaths to Hermione. For her, he'd made a vow. <i>I'll be there whenever you need me. I will always protect what's mine, Hermione. I will always protect you.</i> He'd sworn to keep her safe and that superseded anything else in his mind. His dreams of being able to have her in his life were finally coming true, and he wouldn't rest until he had her back in his arms. </p><p>Draco took a long, shaking breath. "I have three weeks of unused holiday time," he said icily. "I'm taking it."</p><p>He unhooked his badge from his wand harness and dropped it on the desk in his cubicle with a clatter. "Starting today."</p><p>Harry glanced at Mandamus, who nodded. Harry lowered his wand and stepped back, hiding a smile. "Right choice."</p>
<hr/><p>In the conference room, Draco flicked his wand in rapid patterns at the evidence wall, making duplicates of everything and stacking the copies on a leather portfolio open on the table. He worked as quickly as he could, knowing that he had only a few minutes before his 'holiday leave' was signed.</p><p>For one of the few times in his career as an Auror, he was grateful that Harry hated paperwork and was notorious for being slow about it. It gave him a short interval to gather everything about the case he could carry away before he had to turn the investigation over to Parfitt.</p><p>Cotterill and Choudhury slipped into the room and watched for a minute, then each of them drew their wands.</p><p>"Stop," Draco said without looking at them. </p><p>"You're our Sergeant," Cotterill said. "And she's our friend. We're not stepping away."</p><p>"Nicola, take photos and sketches. I'll do maps and timelines." Choudhury moved forward, her wand raised.</p><p>"<em>Stop</em>," Draco said again. "You can't get yourselves stuck in this."</p><p>"Nicola's come down with something awful so she's taking some time," Choudhury said as Cotterill gave the most patently false coughing fit Draco had ever heard. "And I'm out on personal for a week. Family member needs maternity assistance."</p><p>Draco threw her a glance and she grinned. "Not entirely a lie, Sarge. My brother's terrier just had puppies."</p><p>Draco lowered his wand and turned to face them. "Stop," he said one last time. "There's going to be blowback on this. You'd both be risking your careers at the very least even if everything goes well. If it—" His voice caught and he cleared it roughly. "If it goes wrong, charges could be on the line. Dereliction of duty, obstruction of justice, and that's just to start."</p><p>"Same to you, Sarge," Cotterill said.</p><p>"I've already been to prison. I know what to expect."</p><p>"We'll share a cell," Choudhury said. "I'll teach you Bengali and Nicola is brilliant at shadow puppets. You can name all your ancestors. We'll have a grand time."</p><p>Draco pressed his lips together and stared at them. "With honesty and integrity, I will uphold the mission of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I will not compromise or abuse my position for any reason, personal or professional. I will challenge, report, or identify any colleagues who have, or are likely to have, brought the Department and its officers into disrepute."</p><p>Choudhury looked at Cotterill. "Strange, sounded like Sarge is reciting the ethics section of the Auror's Oath of Office. But he couldn't have been, could he? Not for us. Because we're still probationary and haven't taken it yet."</p><p>Cotterill nodded. "Definitely strange."</p><p>Draco shook his head. "I can't ask you to do this," he said, shoulders dropping. "I won't."</p><p>"You're not," Choudhury answered. She stepped in close, lowering her voice. "She's important to you, Sarge. We're getting her back. She's not going to be number seven."</p><p>Closing his eyes, Draco took a deep breath. He felt each of them touch his arms briefly, and he finally gave a single sharp nod. He wanted to thank them, to tell them how much he appreciated their support, as misguided and against department policy as it was, but he couldn't force the words out. Two words, <i>thank you</i>, and they stuck in his throat. It was gratitude, it was weakness.</p><p>No, he told himself silently. That was his father talking. He pushed that thought away and brought forward the image of Hermione with her hand on his heart and her dark eyes staring up at him. <i>You're allowed</i>, he heard her saying. <i>Take off your mask. You're allowed to feel.</i></p><p>"Thank you," Draco said, his voice thick. He opened his eyes and focused on the trainees. Slowly, he reached out and put his hands on their shoulders. "Cott—Nicola. Naseem. You shouldn't be doing this. But thank you. I appreciate it."</p><p>"We're not doing this, Sarge," Choudhury said with a small grin. "Not officially."</p><p>Draco gave a quick flash of a smile and dropped his hands, stepping back. "No. Of course not."</p><p>"Look at the time! I really hope Malfoy is done packing up his personal items and <em>only</em> his personal items while I'm waiting to shake his hand and tell him to have a good holiday," Harry shouted through the door.</p><p>Three wands flicked and all the evidence copies moved to the portfolio. Draco muttered a charm, tapping the cover. It closed, the entire stack of paper flattening.</p><p>Choudhury went to open the door while Cotterill faked another cough. "Head Auror, didn't know you were out there! What a surprise. We're all ready to hand this over to squad three."</p><p>Harry kept his face blank. "Of course you are. Because you're all diligent and co-operative. And good friends on top of that. Such good friends that I would be willing to bet that by six o'clock you're going to be at Malfoy Manor having a very lovely, if early, breakfast and looking over absolutely no casework whatsoever."</p><p>"What a wonderful idea!" Choudhury bounced on her toes. "Sarge?"</p><p>"For fuck's sake," Draco muttered, shaking his head. "Yes. Toast, eggs, bacon. I'll have Mrs Soyer put on a full spread. She'll be overjoyed."</p><p>Harry folded his arms. "And Auror Trainee Cotterill will bring her lozenges, I assume."</p><p>Cotterill coughed again and blew her nose. "Cherry flavor," she said in a whisper,  pointing at her throat.</p><p>"Fantastic," Harry said drily. "Parfitt, come in here!"</p><p>Parfitt stepped into the room and held her wand out to Draco. He hesitated, flicking a glance at Harry, Cotterill, and Choudhury, then lifted his wand, the tip glowing a faint yellow. "Transferring responsibility to Auror Parfitt."</p><p>Parfitt accepted, the yellow glow jumping to her wand. She nodded at the room in general before leaving. Harry turned his attention to the trainees. "You're both off-duty as well. Have loads of fun doing peacock races or hedgehog cricket or whatever it is Malfoy gets up to in his spare time."</p><p>"Hippogriff polo," Draco mumbled as he shrank the portfolio and tucked it into his inner pocket.</p><p>Harry snorted and held open the door, free hand gesturing the two trainees out of the room. Before Draco could follow, Harry stopped him, tugging the door mostly closed.  "One more thing." </p><p>"I'm following my <em>orders</em>, Head Auror Potter," Draco said sharply. "You don't need to—" </p><p>Harry slapped Draco's badge into his hand. "Take that with you. In case we need to cancel your holiday."</p><p>"Definitely not for reasons connected to my girlfriend's abduction," Draco said after a few startled heartbeats. He'd expected that Harry would look away from his obvious intentions to go after Hermione regardless of his instructions. He hadn't expected that he'd be given assistance in it. He curled his fingers around the badge until the edges dug into his palm, then dropped it into his pocket. "Because I can't be involved. Policy."</p><p>"Right. Because you can't be involved. Officially. And you <em>won't</em> be involved. Officially." Harry rubbed his forehead and sighed. "And that is exactly what I'm going to tell the investigative board when they're questioning me about how you got involved anyway. I ordered you to stay out and I said it in front of a dozen witnesses. How could I possibly be expected to know what you do once you leave the building, after all."</p><p>Draco met his eyes and clasped Harry's shoulder. "Thank you, Harry," he murmured. </p><p>Harry lowered his voice. "You'll find her. I know you will. Bring her home, Draco." </p><p>Opening the door, he spoke loudly for the Aurors pretending not to look at or listen to them. "Get the fuck out of the Ministry, Malfoy. You're officially on holiday."</p>
<hr/><p>Hermione stared at the dying embers of the fire. She struggled to push away the quiet, calm feeling in her head. She knew how. It was there, in her mind. It was possible to resist. She'd talked about it with Harry. She'd read about it in the library. She'd written an essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts in sixth year. It was entirely possible to resist an Imperius.</p><p>The clock was ticking, the sky slowly brightening outside the arched window. </p><p>She formed a picture in her mind.</p><p>She thought about safety, love, hope. She concentrated on her dreams of the future, on tiny blond curls and chubby pale cheeks. She focused on everything she desperately wanted, a home filled with books and laughter, a garden full of roses, a house full of family.</p><p>The feeling of Draco in bed beside her, his hand spread across her stomach. His steady heartbeat under her ear. The way he pulled her close to his chest and kissed her hair, even in his sleep. </p><p>The clock ticked.</p><p>The warmth of Draco's mouth when he kissed her and the heat in his hands when he touched her. The stinging pain of his Apparition and the mercury of his eyes. The yearning, the fear, the trust he showed her. The deep rumble of his voice as he clung to her and groaned her name. The pound of his heart under her palm as he said, for the first time, three words. </p><p>Her trance burned away.</p><p>Hermione collapsed, hip-shoulder-cheek hitting the floor. Tears dripped into her hair as she sobbed. Her entire body was one knot of pain, muscles stiff and twisted from the hours of kneeling, of holding the zipper's small metal tab and the black robes in her fist. She tried to uncurl her fingers. They wouldn't relax. </p><p>The clock ticked. </p><p>
  <i>Move. Touch the ring. Get Draco.</i>
</p><p>He'd told her how to contact him. <i>Press hard on the greyhound and say my name.</i> She knew what she had to do, but she couldn't move her fingers. Hermione took a pained, shuddering breath, gathering her strength, then dragged her left hand up to her face and jammed the ring against her chin. </p><p>She croaked and groaned and fought to make a coherent sound. More tears, more gasping for breath, more pain. She pressed harder, grinding the ring into her chin until she felt her skin split. "Dr—" she tried, choking on the syllable. "Co."</p><p>She bit down on a fold of the black robe and screamed into it, her throat finally loosening. The ring cut into her chin, blood slicking her fingers. She heard movement, wood creaking, fabric rustling.</p><p>"How did you—<em>bitch</em>!"</p><p>Hermione spit out the robe, sucked in air, and shrieked. "Draco!"</p><p>The ring throbbed on her finger.</p><p>Hermione rolled onto her side as polished shoes stopped in front of her. She rocked her head on the floorboards. "Medusa. Medusa. Medusa."</p><p>"Figured out where you are, did you? Nice try. But there's a reason I use this tower. Since the fire, dangerous to be up here. Ain't no one allowed. And since it ain't allowed, no sense wastin' magic on the charms. Nobody can hear you, except me. Nobody can Apparate up here. Ain't nobody comin' for you. Don't know where to look."</p><p>Hermione tipped her head enough to see his face. She pushed her hand out and angled the bloodied ring to the light. "Draco knows."</p><p>Geoffrey bent down, glaring at the ring. "Fuckin' Mudblood bitch," he growled. "Think you're so smart?" </p><p>He broke her finger and Vanished the ring.</p><p>Pain seared through her nerves. Despite the stiffness in her limbs and the agony in her finger, Hermione scrabbled backwards. She kicked at Geoffrey's hands, her mind racing. She needed to get to her wand; she needed to fight. </p><p>
  <i>Wand. Fight. Draco is coming.</i>
</p><p>She scrambled and dodged, dragging her way across the floor with her uninjured hand. Closer and closer, she ordered herself to move, ordered her muscles to work. She hit the ashes spilled over the floor, grabbed the stone surround, and stretched, gasping through the pain as she fought to stand. </p><p>Her legs betrayed her, thighs cramping from the hours she'd knelt. Hips, knees, ankles, everything refused to let her rise. She swore incoherently and stretched higher, hand shaking, joints screaming— </p><p>Geoffrey grabbed a fistful of her hair and jerked her away from the fireplace.</p><p>Hermione fought. She fought through the scream in her joints and the shriek in her muscles. She ignored her broken finger. She clawed at his groin, drove her heels into his legs, kicked and hit and <em>fought</em> as he hauled her onto the table and barked a command.</p><p>The coil of rope unfurled and whipped around her, pinning her to the table. Arms trapped to her sides, elbows bent and hands at her shoulders, ankles held wide apart, she struggled against the ropes. "Don't. Don't <em>touch</em> me."</p><p>Geoffrey flicked a charm at the fireplace and rekindled the flames, heat and light flooding the room. "I already told you <em>and</em> your mud-fucker boyfriend. I wouldn't touch a filthy cunt like yours. I just need to make my count. Number seven. Aren't you lucky?" He waved a short knife over her face, and gently touched the flat of the blade to her cheek. </p><p>Hermione froze, eyes wide. Her hands went cold as a memory spun up out of the depths of her mind. The back of her neck tightened and she could almost hear Bellatrix's mad laughter ringing out. "No," Hermione whispered to the ceiling, trapped by more than the ropes around her.</p><p>Her dress rustled. The knife touched her thigh.</p><p>Hermione screamed as he slowly, methodically cut four lines into her leg. VII.</p><p>"There we go," Geoffrey said, moving back to look at her. He held the knife where she could see. "A little bloodplay for you. But that ain't new, hmm? Malfoy left a couple of bite marks on you already. Broke skin on one. He like the way your filthy blood tastes?"</p><p>Hermione took a rasping breath, blinked tears out of her eyes, and spat in his face. </p><p>Geoffrey snarled, then bared his teeth in a wide false smile. "Mudblood. It's illegal to spit in the presence of a pure-blood. Guess who I learned that from?" </p><p>He slapped her, the sound echoing in the room with a lightning crack.</p>
<hr/><p>Draco stood in the center of the Manor's disused ballroom, all of the evidence floating in the air around him. A quill hovering over a parchment took notes as he made observations and comments. At either end of the ballroom, Cotterill and Choudhury were doing the same with their own hastily-made copies.</p><p>His thoughts whirled in his mind: everything he knew about the victims, about their abductions, about Jessup himself. As he moved from sketch to photo to statement, he rubbed the band of the greyhound ring on his finger. Hermione hadn't used its twin to contact him. Either she was unconscious, unable to reach the ring, or— </p><p>His throat closed and he shook the thought away. He refused to accept that she might be dead, might have been dead for hours. He couldn't let himself even consider the possibility.</p><p>He couldn't have lost her already.</p><p>He stripped off his suit jacket and tossed it over a chair, rolling up his shirt sleeves as he returned to the floating evidence and lit a cigarette with a snap of his fingers. Draco exhaled smoke through his nose, the twin streams bouncing off the nearest papers and making them sway. He tightened his jaw and moved to the next section as the clock chimed six. </p><p>His badge, attached high on his wand harness to keep it close to his ear, glowed a few times as Harry relayed squad three's progress directly to him in soft, intermittent mutters. </p><p><i>Warrant obtained for the residence of Edward Jessup.</i><br/>
<i>Residence under observation, no movement detected.</i><br/>
<i>Squad three, moving in, mark 0617.</i></p><p>Draco went to the tall doors at one side of the ballroom, flinging them open to step onto the terrace and listen as he smoked cigarette after cigarette, each one lit off the end of the previous. The long pauses between each of Harry's reports were agonizing and the chimes of a clock in the depths of the house made the passing time even slower. Draco thought he'd rather be Cruciated by his aunt than wait for his badge to crackle to life again.</p><p><i>Door breached.</i><br/>
<i>Search in progress.</i></p><p>Draco flicked a final cigarette into a stone planter at the end of the terrace. He bowed his head, ears straining to hear even the quietest whisper from his badge. It seemed to take forever before Harry spoke again, voice heavy.</p><p>
  <i>Residence empty, no sign of Edward Jessup.</i><br/>
<i>No sign of Hermione Granger.</i>
</p><p>Draco swore, his voice dropping into an unintelligible growl, the temptation of Dark and vicious spells riding heavy on his tongue. He drew his wand, fingers tight around the hilt, and blasted the stone planter into pebbles.</p><p>
  <i>SOCO team on scene.</i><br/>
<i>Squad three, returning to base, mark 0655.</i>
</p><p>"Sorry, Malfoy," Harry said quietly. "I'll keep updating you."</p><p>Draco hunched over the railing around the terrace, elbows on the stone and fingers shoved into his hair. </p><p>He couldn't allow himself to sink into his fear. He couldn't allow himself to picture Hermione sprawled in the grass, a Roman numeral carved into her thigh, her bright and sparkling eyes filmed over with death. His perfect memory threw images of the body drops at him, of the women found, and his imagination changed them all. Red hair shifted to brown, straight hair shifted to curls.</p><p>He could hear Hermione begging him for release - <i>Please, Draco, please</i> - but her voice changed, filling with despair and fear as she begged for her life. He could see her, collapsed in exhaustion beside him with the purple trails of his hands and teeth on her skin, but the marks danced and transformed to rope burns and asphyxiation bruises.</p><p>He wanted to blame it all on imagination and only on that, but he knew, he <em>knew</em> the sound of her screams of pain. And as much as he never wanted to hear them again, he wished he was hearing them now. </p><p>Hearing them would confirm she was still alive. Would confirm that he hadn't broken his promise to her, his promise to protect her, to come for her, to save her. He needed to hear her, to find her alive, to confirm that he hadn't, once again, failed.</p><p>Draco let out a shuddering, half-sobbing breath. The mental agony of his last inquiry paled in comparison to the twisting anguish in his mind now. He loved her, he'd fallen in love with her, he'd finally <em>told</em> her, and against all odds, against everything he believed possible, she loved him too. </p><p>And she was missing, lost. Taken from him. </p><p>Not dead. He couldn't think that. He wouldn't. He <em>refused</em>.</p><p>Draco stared at the grass sloping away from the house for a few heartbeats, then closed his eyes. He dredged up every lesson Bellatrix had taught him, every ounce of skill he had in Occlumency.</p><p>He built walls of cinnamon-colored stone, mortared them with amber, and covered them in vines of jasmine. Stone after stone blocking out his anger, frustration, and fear. He took those and placed them behind his walls, sealing all of his emotions into the depths of his mind. </p><p>He locked everything away and straightened up, his face empty and blank.</p><p>He returned to the ballroom, ignoring the nervous looks that Cotterill and Choudhury threw at him, and went back to the start of the investigation, again.</p><p>Draco paced along the evidence, enlarging crime scene photographs and scrutinizing them intently. He discarded anything the victims didn't share - body position, hair color, discovery location, employment, and more - and focused on what they all did have in common.</p><p>Cedar, ashes, leather.<br/>
Rope abrasions. Strangulation.<br/>
Muggle-born. Rose pendants.</p><p>He paced, letting his thoughts swirl, memories flickering through his mind.</p><p>Cedar.</p><p>
  <i>The trees in the woods behind the Manor, evergreens wet with rain, fallen cones crunching under his boots, gray-green needles tugging at his hair.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Mother's yellow jumper, stored carefully while he was away, the cashmere soft against his cheek when she hugged him on his return.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>A recent remodel, fresh paint and wood. Ragged black robes in a rickety armoire.</i>
</p><p>Leather.</p><p>
  <i>Thick books, shelved and stacked, spines cracked through centuries of use. A long sofa tufted with buttons.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Harness settled around his shoulders, wand at the ready as he prepares to step through a door and face another, and another, and another Dark wizard.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Black leather corset. A woman in shibari, arms and torso bound together. Tengu variation. Damsel in distress.</i>
</p><p>Ashes.</p><p>
  <i>A quick sketch of a cabinet, a single word circled in jagged, repetitive lines. Staring dry-eyed into flames, watching parchment burn.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The Room of Requirement in flames, a desperate scramble, a friend screaming in death.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>A fire we had last year. The stairs were damaged, and I don't allow guests or employees up.</i>
</p><p>Draco stopped.</p><p>He slashed his wand through the air and called a photograph forward. The exterior of Chaswell House, red brick facing, pale stone trim. Sharp roofs, a dozen chimneys, ivy covering the walls. </p><p>Hermione's voice, her soft laugh and bright smile, flared to life in his thoughts.</p><p>
  <i>Let me guess. They play rescue games with it.</i>
</p><p>"Sarge? Sarge, are you all right? You look a little—Naseem, get a chair, quick!"</p><p>Draco stared at the round tower at one end of Chaswell House, his heart pounding in his ears. Memories of voices spun like a storm in his mind.</p><p>
  <i>A fire last year. A lot of fun for damsel in distress. They play rescue games with it. Damsels in distress, abducted princesses. Who knows what could happen to the damsel when her knight isn't around?</i>
</p><p>The greyhound ring on his hand throbbed, flaring a brilliant white. </p><p>Hermione's scream filled the ballroom. "Draco!"</p><p>Draco Disapparated in a swirl of black smoke and the shattering of every window in the Manor.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Chapter 28</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He spun in black clouds and bright lightning, whirling in the space between <i>here</i> and <i>there</i>. The connection between the twin greyhound rings called to him, guiding him to Hermione. Her desperate scream filled his blood and his heartbeat screamed in triple-time with her.</p><p>
  <i>I'm coming. I love you. I'm coming. I'll find you.</i>
</p><p>Pain stabbed through him and Draco fell out of his flight, crashing into a marble statue. He hit hard, wrenching his joints and knocking his breath from him. He landed in a heap at the base. Fighting for breath, he clutched at his right shoulder. The old improperly-healed fracture in it, already strained from the last night he'd spent with Hermione and his struggles to hold himself back and not hurt her further, had cracked from the impact.</p><p>He panted through the pain, eyes squeezed shut, and pushed it to the back of his mind. He had to be rid of it. Nothing, not even a broken bone, could be allowed to distract him. He locked the pain away, pushed himself up, and held his arm tight to his side. </p><p>Draco took a deep breath, awkwardly drew his wand left-handed, and smacked it against his shoulder. It was quick and agonizing, but a basic healing charm stabilized the fracture. It would hold for a short while, long enough for him to reach Hermione. </p><p>There was a flash of silver in the air. Draco glanced down to see a ring at his feet. He swore under his breath. He didn't even have to look to know it was Hermione's ring. They were charmed to return to the head of the family if lost or taken, and seeing it now meant one thing to him. Hermione had been hurt. She wouldn't have surrendered the ring unless forced.</p><p>He carefully crouched and picked up the ring. The greyhound carving was stained with blood. He clenched it in his fist, anger poking at the walls he'd put in his mind, trying to find a crack in his control. Deliberately, Draco put the ring in his pocket and out of his thoughts.</p><p>He shook his head and looked up, orienting himself. The red brick walls of Chaswell House stood some distance away, silent and forbidding even in the morning light. Immediately, his eyes went to the top of the tower. He gathered himself, held his right arm stiff, and spun in place.</p><p>He collapsed into the grass. Spitting curses, he lifted his head. He'd barely moved, the statue a few feet behind him, the house no closer. Draco ordered himself to stand, reinforced the walls blocking out his pain, and tried again.</p><p>A puff of smoke, a weak and muffled crack, and he was down once more. </p><p>He fought to his feet. Staring at the house, he growled deep in his throat. He knew the building was charmed against Apparition within the walls but it had never been prevented outside before. At some point in the years since his previous visits, the wards had been changed. Swearing, Draco rubbed his shoulder and gathered himself for one more attempt at Apparating.</p><p>In mid-spin, he heard a distant scream. A memory flashed across his mind, the nightmare he'd had the first night he'd spent with Hermione.</p><p>
  <i>He stood on the vast sweep of the Manor's grounds, at the bottom of a slope. A woman screamed from the top of it and Draco tried to spin in place. He stumbled, his Apparition fell apart, and the woman screamed again.</i>
</p><p>Draco stumbled out of a burst of smoke, snarling with frustration and anger. The scream had come from above, from the tower, and he <em>couldn't get to her</em>.</p><p>He stared at the arched window he could barely see from that distance. With careful deliberation, he pointed his wand at his boots and charmed spikes into the soles. He secured his wand in its holster and his badge on his harness, adjusted the rolled cuffs of his sleeves, and loosened his shirt collar.</p><p>He firmly pushed away the pain in his shoulder as he locked his attention on the tower. He took a deep breath.</p><p>He <em>ran</em>.</p><p>Draco ran, lungs aching, legs burning. The voice from his nightmare echoed in his head — <i>You'll fail, you'll fail as you have so often, and you'll lose her forever. Too late, Malfoy.</i> — and he shoved it away. He ran across the wide lawn, aiming straight at the tower.</p><p>The ivy that covered the facade was thick and tangled, almost a secondary wall. Draco put every ounce of strength he had into his thighs and he leapt, arm stretched high, grabbing the ivy ten feet up. He ignored the agony in his shoulder, jammed his spiked boots into the vines, and he climbed.</p><p>He hauled himself up the tower's wall, hand over hand, foot by foot, up more than forty feet. The ledge of the arched window was almost in his reach when he heard the cracking sound of a full, vicious slap. Hermione screamed again.</p><p>Lightning flashed across Draco's mind.</p><p>He hooked his boots in the ivy and shoved himself up, grabbing the window ledge. His shoulder howled a warning at him and he growled with it, using the pain as a boost to heave through the arched window.</p><p>He rolled, coming up in a defensive crouch, wand in his left hand.</p><p>"One more step, Malfoy, and she's dead."</p>
<hr/><p>Hermione's head rocked with the blow. She screamed, tears filling her eyes. It was involuntary, something she couldn't possibly help, but knowing that she'd given Geoffrey exactly what he wanted — fear, pain, tears — made her cry even more. He wanted her frightened and hurting, he wanted to punish her for being Muggle-born, to punish her for her relationship with Draco, a pure-blood.</p><p>And he was getting what he wanted from her. </p><p>Hermione writhed in the ropes pinning her to the table. They dug into her arms, tightening each time she moved, rough and abrasive even through the fabric of her dress. </p><p>Geoffrey touched the tip of the knife to her throat and Hermione went still. "Don't," she whispered. She closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath. "Don't kill me."</p><p>"They all say that in the end. Cryin' and beggin' and willin' to give every bit of themselves up without the slightest shame. Mudbloods always say I can have what I want if they don't have to die."</p><p>His breath hit her cheek as he leaned over her. "But what I want <em>is</em> for you to die."</p><p>"Don't kill me," she said again. She turned her head away from him and looked at the arched window. She'd heard a scrape, a rustle, something that shouldn't be there, and her heart pounded as she spoke. "Don't kill me, Geoffrey. I don't want Draco to go back to prison after he kills <em>you</em>."</p><p>"What are you—<em>no</em>." </p><p>A pale, long-fingered hand curled over the window ledge. Draco dove through the window, rolling across the floor and coming up with his wand in his left hand. His right arm sat oddly, pressed close to his side. His pupils were contracted, the skin around his eyes was tight, and his jaw was tense. He was shielding his thoughts, blocking out distractions and worries, but he was barely holding on. He saw her, and his expression went sharp and cold.</p><p>She'd seen that look on his face before: when Colin had tried to touch her, when the vampire had leapt at her. And neither of them had <em>actually</em> hurt her. She saw his eyes flicker from the bloody cut on her chin, to the swelling of her broken finger, to the ropes twisted around her, to the skirt of her dress pushed up to her thighs.</p><p>What little color he had drained from his cheeks. The sound he made was inhuman, turning her blood to ice. </p><p>Geoffrey held the point of the knife at Hermione's throat. "One more step, Malfoy, and she's dead."</p><p>Draco rose from his crouch to his full height, his head only a breath from the ceiling. Lifting his arm, he pointed his wand at Geoffrey, the faded scar of his Dark Mark seeming to slither and darken in the flickering light of the fireplace. </p><p>Geoffrey pressed the knife to her neck. "I'll do it," he said. "I'll slit her throat right here. Used to be a Seeker, right? All sorts of proud of that. How fast do you think you can move, Malfoy? Quick enough to stop me from openin' her jugular?"</p><p>Draco went still. Hermione watched his face, her fingers twitching in the bonds as she tried to reach for him. She wanted to reach up and wrap her hand around the back of his neck, knowing how tense and frightened he had to be at that moment. </p><p>"Draco," she said, gasping as Geoffrey twitched the knife. The tip caught her skin, just the barest nick, but it was enough. Draco's nostrils flared as the scent of fresh blood hit the air. "Draco, no. Steady."</p><p>She curled her fingers down to her palm, three times.</p><p>"Draco," she whispered, watching his eyes as she deliberately put a shake into her voice. "He's won."</p><p>"I did. I <em>did</em>. Ain't so much of a great Auror now, are you? Killed six women before you cottoned on." Geoffrey snorted, wriggling with grotesque delight. "Muggle-borns. Stupid, the lot of them. Made it so easy for me. Got their names off that book club, followed them a bit, made my plans. And they'd talk to any old waller on the street. Rattlin' on and on about their mini-breaks and how happy they were to get away from their men. First they steal proper pure-bloods, then they leave them behind? Rank filth. They were askin' to be done in and I was glad to do it to 'em."</p><p>He'd confessed. Hermione watched Draco's face, and he gave the smallest hint of a nod. With his perfect memory, he could repeat Geoffrey's words exactly, and they had their confession. There were more details that would have to be brought out later, but it was enough. Now, she and Draco just had to figure out how to get <em>her</em> out of this alive.</p><p>She curled her fingers again, three more times. "You see, Draco? He won. He beat you. Just admit it, please."</p><p>Draco didn't look away from Geoffrey, but she caught a hint of movement. His right arm was still held at his side, but one finger shifted, tapping on his thigh. His voice tightened as he spoke, a thread of defeat entering it. "Yes. He was more clever than I expected. Got to you before I even knew it."</p><p>He'd caught her intention. Draco understood tactics, he understood criminals, and he knew where she was leading. Geoffrey wanted to win, wanted to feel superior. If they could give him that, it gave them more time to get out of this. Keep him talking, keep him focused on anything except ending her life, and every second they stretched this out was another second they had to escape.</p><p>Draco slowly lowered his wand. "But it's not the first time he's had the upper hand. I told you about what happened in Azkaban. The beating I took in his place."</p><p>Hermione started to take a deep breath of relief, but Geoffrey pricked her neck with the knife again and she gasped. </p><p>Geoffrey snickered. "You told her. Of course you told her. Tell her everything, don't you? She's a manipulative little bitch, like all the rest of them. You always were a weak one, Malfoy. Screamin' at night in the prison, takin' any demerits the guards wanted to give, lettin' the Ministry push you around. Not surprised you rolled right over for this Mudblood."</p><p>He trailed one finger along the ropes around Hermione's torso, following it over her ribs and up between her breasts. "Suppose she's pretty enough, if you like them filthy. Still can't figure why you'd be happy to stick it to her. You know they say your dick'll fall right off with some of them, but you not only fuck her, you do it out in the open. Didn't your daddy teach you any pride?"</p><p>"My father taught me a lot of things," Draco said tightly. "But no. The lessons on this particular sort of pride weren't ones I learned."</p><p>"Should have beaten them into you."</p><p>Draco was silent for a moment, then he exhaled, settling his arm more firmly against his side. "He did. <i>Patria potestas</i>. He exercised his paternal right."</p><p>Hermione closed her eyes for a second. Draco hadn't been in complete control of his voice for that statement, and while she doubted Geoffrey heard the difference, she did. For the first time, she wished Draco had his mask — the emotional one he used as a shield, or the physical one he'd worn as a Death Eater. Either of them would work. He <em>needed</em> to protect himself now.</p><p><i>Please</i>, she begged inside her head, watching Draco's face grow harder. <i>Draco, please, hold on.</i></p><p>Geoffrey was still moving his fingers along the ropes, caressing them. He touched the knife to the underside of her jaw and she tipped her head back, instinctively trying to move away from the blade, but another cut stung her skin. </p><p>Draco slid one foot forward.</p><p>Geoffrey clucked his tongue, settling the knife tip in the notch of Hermione's clavicle. "I told you. Not one more step. She's dead anyway, but I thought I might be nice enough to give you a chance to say goodbye to your Mudblood whore."</p><p>He tipped his head, looking at Hermione with a gruesome smile. "Strange, innit. They <em>look</em> like real wizards and witches. Even act like 'em. But they're just thieves. Sneakin' in to our world, stealin' from proper magical folk." He dragged the knife down her torso to tap the flat of it over her heart. "Ain't you a thief, Mudblood?"</p><p>"No," she whispered. "I <em>am</em> a real witch."</p><p>He turned the blade, putting it beneath her breast, the point digging through her dress between her ribs. "Wrong answer. Try again."</p><p>Hermione stared at Draco's curled fists, unable to look directly at his face when she replied. She knew how much he hated these two words, and how much it was bound to hurt him to hear her say them to Geoffrey. A tear slid out of the corner of her eye to drip onto the table. "No ... no, my Lord."</p><p>Draco's fingers twitched, the only sign of a flinch he'd managed to hide. His voice rumbled through the room, deepening to a vicious growl. "You son of a—Jessup. If you back off now, the court <em>might</em> consider leniency. Stop what you're doing, turn yourself in. If you surrender, I can—" </p><p>"Surrender? No. No, I don't think so, Malfoy. I'm finally gettin' through to people. They'll all figure it out after I take care of this. No more mud-fuckers. Pure belongs with pure and Mudbloods deserve to be put in the ground. No one else sees it, nobody's willin' to take the necessary steps. But I am. I'm doin' what needs to be done!"</p><p>"Murder is never something that needs to be done." </p><p>Geoffrey's face twisted. He lifted the knife and turned it, setting the point on Hermione's abdomen. "It is. It <em>does</em>. I have to do it. It's important. They're filth! They're <em>tainted</em> and they destroy everything. I'm doin' this for the future of wizardry. Protectin' the next generation."</p><p>Draco's eyes widened, then narrowed. He stared hard at the knife touching Hermione's navel.</p><p>She saw him tap his fingers three times against his thigh before he lifted his head to meet Geoffrey's eyes. His voice was hard, cold. </p><p>Deadly.</p><p>"If you truly want to protect the next generation of wizards, I suggest you back the fuck away from my son."</p>
<hr/><p>Family. Blood. Generations. Purity. Draco's mind whirled. </p><p>Jessup was a pure-blood. Not a respected one, not one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Not someone with any power or status. But Fern Burke <em>had</em> been. If, as Draco suspected, she had been in a relationship with Jessup in the eighties, it would have been a benison to his family. Adding her unimpeachable bloodline to his would have shot him into the higher ranks of pure-blood society, given his descendants access to things he could never imagine having.</p><p>And then she'd left him for a Muggle-born. Destroyed his hopes, ruined his chances. No respectable life, no acceptable blood. No value in his descendants.</p><p>Family. Blood. Generations. Purity. Despite his prejudice, Jessup didn't kill Muggle-born men because they hadn't betrayed him. He was a traditionalist, and couldn't kill pure-blood women because they were too valuable. Jessup had settled on Muggle-born women for one reason.</p><p>The same reason might <em>stop</em> him from killing a woman, no matter her origin. </p><p>Draco put the words together in his mind and silently willed Hermione to understand. It was a lie; it was a tactic. It needed to be done. </p><p>Draco stared at the knife Jessup was holding, the knife that was pointed directly at Hermione's abdomen. He tapped his thigh in their private signal and lifted his head to look at Jessup's face.</p><p>He let his voice turn hard, copying his father's iciest tones. "If you truly want to protect the next generation of wizards, I suggest you back the fuck away from my son."</p><p>Hermione gasped quietly but Jessup seemed not to have heard her. He snapped his head up, staring at Draco. "Your what?!"</p><p>Draco took a tiny step. Jessup was frozen, staring at him in shock, and didn't protest his movements. Draco took another slow and cautious step, his fingers tapping his thigh. "You didn't figure it out?" he said. "She's pregnant."</p><p>Hermione made a quiet sound, and Jessup looked down at her, at the blade resting on her stomach. "No," he said.</p><p>Hermione bit her lip. "Yes," she whispered after several long heartbeats. She looked at Draco and blinked, three times, before turning her head back to Jessup. "That's why I was going to the gynaecologist. To see how things are going. I'm—I'm. Yes. Two months. I'm two months pregnant. Draco's the father."</p><p>"You <em>wouldn't</em> have." Jessup's face twisted with horror. "She's a <em>Mudblood</em>. You couldn't have been that stupid. She tricked you, didn't she? Did it deliberately to trap you."</p><p>Draco didn't let his relief show on his face. Hermione had caught his plan and embellished it. It might work better than he'd anticipated. "It wouldn't matter, would it? Accident, intentional, planned. Doesn't matter. She's pregnant and I'm the father. Blood is blood, and that child is half mine."</p><p>Jessup's grip on the knife loosened; his mouth hung open. He shook his head. "No. I don't believe you."</p><p>"Feel her arm." Draco gave a tight smile when Jessup made a bewildered face. "Her left arm. Above her elbow, on the inside. Muggle-born women develop a small nodule when they're pregnant. Feel it, if you don't believe me."</p><p>Jessup eyed him warily. Draco edged another step closer when Jessup looked down at Hermione.</p><p>Draco kept his face still. Hermione's implant. The night they'd finally had sex, she'd explained how it worked to him and had him feel it in her arm, to give him the assurance that she had meant it when she'd first hinted he could go bareback. Because, as she'd said to him before she went to change into her blue dress for the Rose Ball, feeling him come inside her had been one of her fantasies for a very long time.</p><p>He knew the matchstick-sized implant was easy to feel under her skin, and suspected that Jessup would have zero idea what it was, since it was very different from most magical forms of birth control. Even better, he suspected Jessup would believe Muggle-born women <em>were</em> different enough to show a 'nodule' for pregnancy.</p><p>Hermione visibly held her breath as Jessup wriggled his hand into the tight space between her arm and side, the ropes giving Jessup little room to move. He prodded Hermione, pinching and groping at her flesh, then squeezed her arm forcefully. </p><p>"You see?" Draco said. "The nodule. It's right there; you felt it yourself. She's pregnant. So if you kill her, you kill my child, and if you have any respect for pure-blood traditions at all, you know one thing." </p><p>Draco slid forward another step, his wand tight in his hand. "<i>Patria potestas</i>, Jessup. Absolute, complete authority over my family. Legitimate, illegitimate, pure-blood or half-blood. Mine, to do with as I wish. If you usurp my right over my child's life <em>and</em> death, there isn't a wizarding court anywhere in the world that would convict me for slaughtering you where you stand."</p><p>"You—you're. Lies. It's a lie. I don't—I won't. No. No!" Jessup shrieked and tried to wrench away from Hermione.</p><p>She clamped her arm to her side, pinning his hand in place. "Now, Draco!"</p><p>Draco snapped his wand up and fired.</p>
<hr/><p>Hermione had been confused for a moment, wondering what Draco had in mind when his face shifted and his voice went cold, then he claimed she was pregnant and she understood. Bloodlines, children, family — the most valuable thing in the world to a pure-blood, especially one like Draco. His efforts to protect his parents during the war were well-known, and it was no stretch of the imagination to think how much further he'd go in efforts to protect his child.</p><p>She went along with his lie, quickly calculating how far along she'd need to be to account for the lack of bulge in her abdomen. And despite the danger of their situation, she nearly laughed at Draco's insistence that Muggle-born women grew a <em>nodule</em> to indicate they were pregnant. It was a completely ridiculous notion, but at the same time it was a clever way to 'prove' Draco was telling the truth.</p><p>Then Geoffrey left his hand between her arm and her side and she took her chance. She clenched all her muscles as tightly as she could, trapping him. "Now, Draco!"</p><p>Draco fired a spell that knocked Jessup across the room. The next second, he dissolved the ropes around her. He slapped the badge on his harness. "All call, all call. To this location. Break wards, come armed!"</p><p>Hermione rolled off the table, barely sensing the pains of her cuts and bruises as she moved. She snatched her wand off the fireplace mantel and spun to join the attack. </p><p>Jessup fought hard, but he fought wildly. His spells were a mix of streaming, insubstantial ropes and ghostly clutching hands, magical reflections of how he'd murdered so many women. </p><p>Hermione focused on defense, shields and countermeasures thrown in front of Geoffrey's spells. </p><p>Draco was duelling with his left hand and his spells weren't as crisp and quick as usual. She circled behind him, standing to his right, protecting his wounded arm. She didn't know what had happened, why he'd switched hands to cast, but she could guess. His old injury, the broken shoulder from his father's beatings, had to have been reinjured, and severely. How he'd managed to climb the outside of the tower, she couldn't fathom. He had to be in agony, but he was still fighting.</p><p>She let the worries over Draco's arm slide to the back of her mind as she blocked a streaming rope from Geoffrey. Worry wasn't important. Protection, safety, escape — that was important. She was determined. She wasn't going to lose him. He wasn't going to lose her.</p><p>They would both survive, by any means.</p><p>The tower shuddered, shaking as if the entire building had rocked on its foundation. Draco's badge flared white as Nicola's voice boomed from it. "We're coming, Sarge! Aurors on the way!" </p><p>Draco snarled. "Last chance, Jessup."</p><p>Swearing, Geoffrey doubled his attacks. He shouted curses and insults, his face twisted in anger. </p><p>Draco fought, his magic cold and sharp, spells cutting through the air. </p><p>Geoffrey roared. He hurled spells, one after the other, flinging the chair, the table, the tapestries as weapons, battering Draco but failing to break through Hermione's defenses. She blocked and destroyed everything Geoffrey threw.</p><p>Geoffrey failed and failed. The black robes, the bed's canopy, even the gently ticking clock. Each item, each insubstantial rope and ghostly hand, failed.</p><p>Spitting curses, Geoffrey snatched up the knife and launched it straight at Hermione.</p><p>The knife slammed into Draco's shoulder as he dodged in front of Hermione to block it. The sudden hit knocked him off-balance, spun him away from her. She dropped her shield and caught Draco with a flick of her wand, keeping him from falling headfirst into the stones surrounding the fireplace.</p><p>Geoffrey's next attack succeeded.</p><p>A streak of fire snapped toward her. Time slowed down. She watched the fire coming toward her, watched Draco turn, his face filling with horror. She couldn't get her wand up in time, couldn't get her shield back into place fast enough.</p><p>The flame hit her in the stomach.</p><p>"Oh," Hermione whispered. She put her hand to her stomach. A crushing pain spread through her, like a train had slammed full force into her body. "Draco?" She wavered, Draco's sharp features turned soft and blurred, and she collapsed.</p>
<hr/><p>Jessup threw a curse at Hermione, at her abdomen, at Draco's imaginary child, and Draco wasn't fast enough. He couldn't get to Hermione, couldn't block, couldn't shield. He couldn't do anything but watch it hit her. </p><p>Hermione held her stomach. She looked at him with fear and pain. She said his name. </p><p>She fell.</p><p>Draco's heart crashed to a stop. Hermione hit the floor, one hand clenched to her stomach, one hand stretched out to him. She moved weakly, struggling to get up. She was alive.</p><p>But she was <em>hurt</em>.</p><p>The thickest walls in Draco's mind, the ones that surrounded Bella's lessons, shattered. Bright, insane laughter swirled up through his memories. </p><p>
  <i>Black hair, the smell of oakmoss, grey eyes peering into his. Bony fingers in his hair, yanking his head back. The point of nails in his jugular. The taste of blood on his tongue. Show me what you can do, boy. Do it, Draco! Now!</i>
</p><p>Hermione. Every instinct, every thought, was locked on her. Protect Hermione. His Auror training, all the rules and regulations he knew, fell away from him. Bella's training seared through him, taking over.</p><p>Draco wrenched the knife out of his shoulder and whirled on Jessup. </p><p>"Goodbye to one little bastard!" Jessup said gleefully. He cast another flame spell, laughing at his assumed victory.</p><p>"<i>Dirimius</i>," Draco snapped, wand moving in a spiral gesture, and the flame broke apart with a pitiful whine. </p><p>Jessup gaped at him. "What d'you—How—You can't! No!"  </p><p>"If you don't know how to <em>properly</em> cast Dark spells," Draco snarled, waving his wand across his face. Metal flowed across his cheeks and over his forehead, spreading down the bridge of his nose and up the line of his jaw. He spoke before the mask closed over his mouth. "Don't go up against a Dark wizard."</p><p>He attacked. Cold, sharp, cracking spells—Draco's magic burned like ice in the room. He cast non-verbally, remorselessly, spell after spell streaking through the room. </p><p>Jessup staggered back and back, his eyes going wider, his hands trembling more with every spell. He cast shield after shield as he retreated around the periphery of the room.</p><p>His eyes shot to the wardrobe and he lunged for it.</p><p>Draco hit it hard, white-blue tongues screaming as the wood frosted over, the wardrobe filling with a solid block of ice. He twirled his wand and sent the ice across the ceiling and down the walls, cold hands reaching for Jessup, grabbing him and freezing him in place.</p><p>Draco stalked forward, left arm coming up across his body. He slashed his wand forward, a green jet of light filling the air.</p><p>The explosive shock of his curse threw Jessup through the arched window of the tower, stones bursting with a spray of ice.</p><p>Jessup screamed as he fell out of sight.</p><p>The tower shook. It cracked and creaked and shook again. A massive, thunderous groan echoed in the walls. Draco staggered, the floor abruptly tilting with a roar. </p><p>The tower tore away from the house.</p><p>Draco scrambled across the room, his mask dissipating into faint swirls of black. He swept Hermione up and into his arms, and skidded over the slanted floor to the jagged hole in the stone wall.</p><p>Draco held Hermione tight to his chest, ducking his head long enough to drop a kiss on her forehead. "Stay with me, my love. I have you."</p><p>Eyes half-closed, she whispered as she weakly triple-tapped one finger on her stomach. "I trust you."</p><p>The wards. They had to be down. They <em>had</em> to be.</p><p>Draco took a deep breath, leapt out of the tower, and spun in mid-air.</p><p>A lightning crack of Apparition echoed from one side of the sky to the other.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Chapter 29</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She hurt. From her face to her hands, to her abdomen and her thigh, everything <em>hurt</em>, but Draco had her. He'd come for her and she'd fought at his side and when she'd fallen he'd fought even harder.</p>
<p>Too injured to get up, she'd lain on the floor and watched as something in Draco shattered. He spun and attacked. On the bridge after his mother's funeral, she'd watched him shadow-duelling in grief and heartbreak. He'd been dangerous then. </p>
<p>Fighting Geoffrey, he was deadly. The silver mask had flowed over his face, blocking out his sharp features, taking away <em>Draco</em> and leaving darkness. </p>
<p>She'd drifted for most of the fight, injuries and exhaustion pulling thick wool over her mind. An explosion shook her awake. A scream faded into the distance. The floor moved under her, the tower swaying, and then Draco had been there, pulling her into his arms.</p>
<p>They spun in black smoke and lightning. Hermione curled in on herself, one hand over her stomach, one hand locked in the front of Draco's shirt. She held on, trusting in him to keep her close and secure as they Apparated. </p>
<p>They landed with a sound that made the earth tremble. For a moment, the entire world was still, as if time had frozen. There was no movement, no sound, nothing except the way Draco looked at her, fear and desperation in his eyes. </p>
<p>"We're safe," she murmured. She let her head drop back in relief, closing her eyes. "We're safe. It's over."</p>
<p>Draco clutched her against his chest. He gasped, a deep and sucking breath.</p>
<p>He dropped to his knees in the slick grass.</p>
<p>He screamed, a terrified, agonizing sound that resolved into two words.</p>
<p>"Help me!"</p><hr/>
<p>Draco landed with an impact that jarred his shoulder, breaking the unskilled healing charm he'd applied to it. The bone cracked again but Draco stuffed the pain deep into the back of his thoughts as he clung to Hermione. He could hear the shriek of stone and the rattling boom as the tower collapsed entirely, could hear the shouts of Aurors on the scene, but he couldn't take his eyes off Hermione. His heart pounded wildly, fear rushing through him. </p>
<p>He held her. He was <em>holding</em> her, right that second, and still he was afraid. Afraid he was in a dream or locked in a memory of having her in his arms, and that he would wake up to a living nightmare — she was crushed under the tower, she was strangled, she was dead. </p>
<p>Draco fell to his knees in terror, staring into Hermione's face. Her body was loose, her eyes were closed. She didn't move.</p>
<p>
  <i>A Malfoy does not show weakness, boy. A Malfoy does not cry. Look at his face. He doesn't even care. Show no pain like a man. Like a Malfoy.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>You're allowed to grieve, to be in pain. You're allowed to feel hurt, Draco. You're not alone. Take off your mask. You're allowed.</i>
</p>
<p>Draco held Hermione close to his body. He shoved away all his upbringing, his training, years of silence and repression. He took a deep breath. Fear and pain let loose in a racking scream.</p>
<p>"Help me!"</p>
<p>Aurors popped into view, robes swirling and wands out, a half-dozen people suddenly surrounding them.  </p>
<p>"Malfoy! We're here, we're here. Healers on the way. Put her down; let us handle this." </p>
<p>A hand touched Hermione's arm and Draco jerked back, snarling, folding her close to his chest. </p>
<p>Harry stood in front of him, both hands out and open. "Okay," Harry said slowly. "Not letting go just yet. That's fine. You hold on." </p>
<p>Draco looked up and forced himself to push past the need to keep her safe, warring with his own need to protect her. "Mine—No. Help. Help me. You can't—don't touch. But— She needs help. Help her."</p>
<p>"We will. Healers are coming. You keep her safe, Draco. I'll be right—Wait, I know. This'll help."</p>
<p>He gestured to the Aurors and gave a sharp command. The Aurors immediately turned, all of them facing outward, wands moving in synchronicity to cast a shimmering bubble of protection around them. They stood guard.</p>
<p>"There," Harry said. He lowered to the ground, out of arm's reach, and sat cross-legged with both hands dangling loose over his shins. "There you go. Shield circle. We're all safe."</p>
<p>Draco slumped back onto his heels, feeling a sense of relief thread through his tension. It was a maneuver he'd been trained in, one that he understood deep within himself. He'd been part of similar circles before. Shielding, protecting a witness or a victim against a threat. It was safety, for the moment.</p>
<p>Hermione twitched and Draco snapped his attention to her face. "Hermione?"</p>
<p>She attempted to sit up, groaning as she moved, and Draco held her still. He saw Harry turning to speak to someone beyond the circle of Aurors, heard raised voices in the distance, but he ignored it all. Hermione. He had to concentrate on Hermione. "Don't. Don't, my love. Don't move. You're hurt." </p>
<p>"So are you." She stopped moving, her injured hand resting over her stomach where she'd been struck by the flame curse. "It's not that bad. I've been hurt worse."</p>
<p>Draco shook his head, hearing the pain in her voice. He moved under her, folding his legs to form a cradle so he could look her over. The major concern was the curse that had hit her, but she also had minor injuries from head to toe. A swollen and blackening eye, blood smeared on her chin from a ragged cut, nicks on her throat, a broken finger. </p>
<p>He straightened her dress over her leg, fingers trembling at the dried blood that stained her thigh. She'd been marked, the Roman numerals cut into her. Number seven. He hadn't been in time to stop Jessup. He'd been too late.</p>
<p>He'd tried to protect her and he'd failed.</p>
<p>"Stop that." Hermione wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, tapping him in their signal. "I know what you're thinking. Don't you dare, Draco Malfoy."</p>
<p>She pulled his head down, meeting his eyes. "I'm safe. You saved me. You were there in time, Draco. You made it. I'm alive and I'm safe. We're both safe. It's over."</p>
<p>"I couldn't—" He choked on the words but her gentle grip on his nape kept him from looking away from her. He stared into her pain-laced eyes and his voice dropped to a whisper. "I almost <em>wasn't</em> in time."</p>
<p>"You were. You didn't fail." She slid her hand along his cheek to tap three times on his mouth. "You won. You scaled the tower and you fought the battle and the dragon rescued the princess." Her voice shook, fading in and out as she spoke.</p>
<p>"You're delirious."</p>
<p>"I'm safe." She tipped her head against his arm, her hand falling to clutch at her abdomen. "But I—You're bleeding. You need—I need—"</p>
<p>Draco's heart raced as Hermione moaned softly and her eyes drifted closed. He snapped his head up. "Help her!"</p>
<p>Harry shot to his feet and called for the Healers.</p><hr/>
<p>It took the Healers a good deal of effort to convince Draco to let go of Hermione, as well as multiple threats to Stun him and restrain him. Only Hermione's weak insistence that he let them work finally made him step back and allow one of them to treat the knife wound in his shoulder while the others swarmed around her. </p>
<p>He shoved the Healer away before the fractured bone could be reset, watching Hermione be placed on a gurney. She held her hand out and he went to her instantly. He took her greyhound ring from his pocket to set it gently in her palm. Her fingers locked around it as her body relaxed. </p>
<p>He bent over her, whispering to her. "I'll be with you as soon as I can, Hermione. I promise you."</p>
<p>She kissed him, three quick touches across his mouth before the Healers insisted he back up and let them transport her.</p>
<p>He didn't look away until the Healers and the gurney had disappeared, then he took a deep breath and turned to face Harry, holding his arm stiff against his side as he moved. He knew he was going to have to answer for what he'd done that day, but he hoped that Harry would let him put it off until after medical treatment. Until after he'd been to see Hermione. "Potter, do you mind if we hold off on the shouting and suspensions? Hermione's going to need me."</p>
<p>Harry blinked at him, then made a dramatically surprised face. "Malfoy! What a stroke of luck that you were here to rescue Hermione. You were on site to pick up something you left behind in your suite, weren't you? What a coincidence that she was being held here."</p>
<p>"Potter, what in the hell are you—"</p>
<p>"Yes, <em>what</em> a coincidence," Harry said, raising his voice. "Absolutely a coincidence that you were here!"</p>
<p>Draco rubbed his chin, staring at Harry. After a moment, he looked away. "Yes. Coincidence. Rather a stunning one, really."</p>
<p>"Good thing, too. But now we don't need you and you should go to the hospital and be with your girlfriend. People who are actually involved in the case will take it from here. Definitely not Aurors who are on holiday leave and just happened to be on scene in the nick of time."</p>
<p>Draco slipped his badge off his harness and slid it into his pocket, one brow raised. "Definitely not."</p>
<p>"Great. We're agreed and I'm off. Have to fill out an accidental death report. Jessup didn't make it."</p>
<p>Draco swallowed. "Potter, I need to—" He forced the words out. "I killed him. He hurt Hermione. And I killed him for it." </p>
<p>"Sorry, wasn't paying attention. Didn't hear that," Harry said as he scratched the back of his hand. "Jessup fell out of the window. Must have been when the tower started collapsing. Another lucky break that Aurors had arrived and witnessed the entire thing. Completely accidental fall, wasn't it?"</p>
<p>Draco glanced down at Harry's hand, at the faded scar beneath his knuckles. <i>I must not tell lies.</i> Clearing his throat, Draco looked back up. </p>
<p>Harry gave him a steady stare. "It <em>was</em> an accident. Because you weren't intentionally trying to kill him."</p>
<p>After a long moment, Draco nodded. "When the tower started to collapse, he went out the window. That is absolutely true."</p>
<p>"Right. That's what I thought I saw." Harry took off his glasses, rubbing the lenses on a corner of his shirt, and spoke without looking at Draco. "Not a single cold-blooded murder was committed today, and that's exactly what I'll write in my after-action report and <em>your</em> witness statement, which you will sign without arguing."</p>
<p>He lowered his voice and stepped closer to Draco. "Because I'm going to be tap-dancing like a spider to convince Mandamus to let you keep your job so don't make it any harder than it has to be, all right?"</p>
<p>Draco gave a single nod. "Understood."</p>
<p>"Good. Go to the hospital, get yourself looked over, and go to Hermione before you explode from not being able to be with her. That's an order, Malfoy, and for fuck's sake, obey this one."</p><hr/>
<p>There were so many things that needed healed. </p>
<p>The swelling cheek and black eye.<br/>
The split and bruised chin, the nicked throat.<br/>
The broken finger.</p>
<p>Most were treated at the scene, before she was transported, but the curse needed a senior Healer. She was stabilized, examined, and treated in a confusing blur of lime-green robes and urgent voices.</p>
<p>Sitting on an examination table in a long-sleeved hospital gown, Hermione answered what questions she could, describing what she remembered. It wasn't a lot. She didn't have Draco's memory, and she was already in pain, exhausted, and frightened from everything leading up to the fight. Her mind hadn't latched onto much besides Draco's horrified face as the cursed flame struck her.</p>
<p>The best she could do was compare it to the curse that she had suffered years before, the one that Antonin Dolohov had thrown at her. Geoffrey's version had been weaker, less skilled, and fortunately, far less dangerous. </p>
<p>The Healer, an older man with a faint Scottish burr, nodded once she'd finished. "You'll be familiar with the necessary potion regimen," he said, flipping pages and making a note in her chart. "So we'll get that set up for you. The location of the strike needs some consideration. No rib cage to protect vital organs, unlike your previous experience. Might develop digestive issues, so keep an eye on that. And your menstrual cycle may alter."</p>
<p>"I have a Muggle contraceptive implant and I'm one of the women who stopped having periods on it. Nothing to alter." She gave a tight smile. "And before you ask, I'm sure I'm not pregnant. I test regularly, since I'm sexually active." </p>
<p>She hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. "This ... you don't think that—" Clearing her throat, she looked down at her hands and brushed her fingers over the greyhound ring Draco had returned to her. "Will this affect my ability to have children in the future?" she whispered.</p>
<p>"I don't believe so," the Healer said kindly. "The curse that struck you was weak and unlikely to cause permanent damage. We'll schedule you to come in for further testing in the next few months." He made a note in her chart, then looked up. "I can't be certain how the potions you'll need to take will interact with your implant's hormones. You may wish to add a secondary form of contraception, if pregnancy is a major concern." </p>
<p>She thought about her dreams, about tiny dimpled cheeks and shining grey eyes. Her lips curled into a small smile. "Not a major concern, no. Not as much as it used to be. But thank you, I'll keep that in mind."</p>
<p>The Healer watched her for a moment, then made another note in the chart. "Your other injuries were relatively minor and most of them were field-treated, so we'll transfer you to a more private room for rest and recovery. Mr Malfoy has already requested that you be set up in the Aurors' ward next to him."</p>
<p>He closed the chart and folded his hands on top of it. "There's one more exam you may wish to have done before we put you in with him, and you are welcome to request a female Healer for it, if you'd prefer."</p>
<p>Hermione stared at him, then felt her cheeks heating once she realized what he must mean. She cleared her throat and forced herself to be rational. The possibility was there and a good Healer wouldn't let it go unquestioned. "I'm certain I wasn't raped. Geoffrey—Jessup. Whatever his name is. He was very clear that Muggle-born women are distasteful. That he <em>wouldn't</em> touch me. I don't feel sore, and I still have my knickers. Will a test be necessary?"</p>
<p>"It's up to you. A full exam will take a few hours and can be very invasive, but if it's positive, that's something else the prosecution can use. There <em>is</em> a short version, but it will be inadmissible for legal purposes and it can give a false positive, if you've engaged in consensual activity within the previous twenty-four hours or so."</p>
<p>She shook her head and stared down at her hands, at the broken finger one Healer had set and splinted. Geoffrey had left plenty of traces on her already, from face to thigh, and it was the latter that was most on her mind.</p>
<p>He'd cut her. Marked her. He was the last person to put hands on her body in such an intimate place, and the thought of it made her skin crawl. She didn't want another stranger under her skirt, no matter how dispassionate and professional. She'd fought the Healer who tried when she arrived at the hospital, nearly kicking the woman in the chin. She didn't want that.</p>
<p>Before anyone else touched her, even to heal the cuts on her thigh, she wanted Draco. She wanted his long fingers smoothing over her skin, the heat of his palms and the warmth of his mouth trailing over her scars. When they made love, they often took a few minutes to explore each other's marks, kissing and stroking away old hurts and bad memories. </p>
<p>She wanted the next person to put his hands on her to be <em>Draco</em>. She wanted him to wrap her in his arms and cover her new scars with his touch.</p>
<p>"No," she said to the Healer. "No, I don't want that exam. I want to be moved to the ward now."</p>
<p>"If you're certain, Miss Granger?"</p>
<p>"Please," she said, her voice starting to shake. "I need—take me to him. Please."</p><hr/>
<p>They insisted on taking her to the ward in a wheelchair, and Hermione thought she might scream. She was positive she could have crawled up the stairs more quickly than the lift moved. When the Mediwitch pushed open the door of Draco's room, Hermione bolted up from the chair.</p>
<p>Two beds, one average length, one extra-long. One empty, one occupied. Draco was shirtless, propped up against the pillows with discarded potion bottles on the table beside him. Against his pale skin, his tattoos —  the ones she could see — stood out more sharply than usual. His arm was in a sling, his right shoulder bruised and swollen. </p>
<p>"Hermione!" Draco pushed himself to one side of the bed and held his hand out to her.</p>
<p>Hermione crawled into the space he'd made to burrow in against his left side. As soon as she heard his heartbeat under her ear, she relaxed, tapping her splinted fingers on his sternum.</p>
<p>"I have you, Granger," he murmured before slowly putting his arm around her. "It's all right."</p>
<p>"Miss Granger, you're supposed to be—" the Mediwitch tried.</p>
<p>"She's exactly where she's supposed to be," Draco said. He slipped his hand under Hermione's hair and cradled the back of her neck. "Thank you. You may go."</p>
<p>"Mister Malfoy, I—"</p>
<p>"Leave."</p>
<p>The door clicked closed. Hermione stirred, lifting her head enough to look at Draco. "You could have been a little nicer."</p>
<p>"I'm on four different potions because I have a broken shoulder being held together with hope and Spellotape," he said acidly. "I have no 'nice' left for anyone but you."</p>
<p>"They didn't treat you?!"</p>
<p>Draco shook his head. "I'm exaggerating. They fixed it up for now, but I may need surgery. The original break never healed properly in the first place. I just don't have the energy to be nice to anyone, not after—" He made a weak growl. "After everything. This has been one of the worst days of my life, Granger."</p>
<p>"Oh, Draco," she said, laying her head back on his chest. If he included <em>this</em> as one of his worst days, she couldn't imagine what was going through his head. His initiation, his mother's torture, Azkaban—and this? Her heart ached for him. She set her hand on the folds of the sling, and gently tapped him with her splint. "Can you talk to me? If you can't, it's—I'll understand, I swear."</p>
<p>Draco was quiet for a long while, then he took a deep breath and his voice softened. "I have a Dark magic headache. My walls are just barely holding together. I've had four memory locks since I got to the hospital, and I'll be having screaming nightmares for the next week. I'm exhausted, I'm in pain, I'm pissed off."</p>
<p>His voice caught, turning ragged. "And I'm so fucking worried about you. You were missing for hours, I was ordered to stay off the investigation, I wasn't allowed to be with you while you were being treated, and god only knows what Jessup did to you and he <em>cut</em> you. I saw the blood and I know he cut you. He marked you and I wanted to kill him and—" </p>
<p>"Draco. Deep breath. I'm here. I'm safe." She pushed up enough to look him full in the face. "I'm safe."</p>
<p>Draco met her eyes. "Are you? God, Hermione, what are you doing? I'm barely even—Compared to you?" He moved as if he wanted to sit up, but Hermione put her hand on his chest to keep him in place. Draco subsided, his face tensing. "Tell me," he said, echoing what she said to him so often. "Tell me everything that happened. Talk to me." </p>
<p>Hermione closed her eyes. She took a breath, fighting to keep it steady, and nestled in more firmly against his side. Slowly, she triple-tapped on his chest. </p>
<p>She talked. She told him everything she could remember, from getting out of the taxi on Harley Street to seeing him come through the window of the tower. His heart raced under her ear, a pounding that gave away his stress and worry, but he stroked her back gently as she spoke. His touch was the comfort she'd needed. </p>
<p>She spilled everything to him, all her hurts, all her pain, but also all her conviction. Her confidence in him. She told him how certain she'd been that he would find her, that he'd keep his promise. <i>If you need me, Hermione, I will be there for you.</i> </p>
<p>"I wasn't afraid you wouldn't come," she said finally. "I knew you would. I <em>knew</em> you were coming for me. All I had to do was keep fighting, keep going. Because I was leaving that tower alive, with you. I never doubted that for a second."</p>
<p>She brushed tears off her cheeks and pushed herself up the bed to kiss him. "Yes, I'm hurt. I'm not going to lie about that, unlike a certain tall man I know and love. But it's nearly all healed already."</p>
<p>Draco looked at her. His eyes weren't narrowed and his pupils weren't dilated. He wasn't blocking anything from her, and she could see every ounce of his worry in his eyes. Carefully, she brushed his fringe back, her hand held awkwardly to keep the splint from hitting him. She set her palm against his cheek. "I'm fine," she said. "Because we're <em>both</em> safe. You didn't lose me. And no matter what happens, whatever consequences come out of this, I won't lose you."</p>
<p>"Consequences," he muttered, lowering his lashes. "Probably going to be several of those. I violated a direct order. If they weigh my wand, I'm in for it. No telling what they might do regarding the Dark spells, mask and all that. Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater. I might very well go back to Azkaban for what I did today."</p>
<p>She pictured him standing in the tower, his mask flowing over his face, his spells slicing through the air. Dark and violent magic, full of revenge and anger, had filled the room. Neither of them said it, but she knew. He'd killed that day, for the first time. <i>I would have, if I'd needed to</i>, she heard him saying. <i>I will always protect what's mine, Hermione. I will always protect you.</i></p>
<p>He'd killed the man who hurt her, and she didn't regret it for a moment.</p>
<p>Hermione kissed him again, following the curve of his mouth and the ridge of his cheekbone, resting her lips against his temple. "You were fighting to protect someone you love. It's what you do. It's what you've always done. If you get suspended, or fired, or even arrested for it, I'll be there. All the good days and all the bad nights."</p>
<p>She lifted up to give him a stern look. "And if you think that I won't be spending each second I'm <em>not</em> with you down in the archives pulling every single book and scroll I can find to build your defense, then you don't know me at all."</p>
<p>Draco managed a hint of a smile, but the tension was still in his face. Hermione tipped her head, watching him, as he slowly brought his hand up to trace the last remnants of the bruise around her eye. He leaned forward and kissed the arch of her brow. "I'm sorry," he whispered.</p>
<p>The words hit her as hard as the curse had that morning. Through all the years she'd known him, everything she'd heard him say, everything she'd heard Pansy talk about, there was one immutable fact. Draco never apologized. Not to his mother, not to Pansy, not to Blaise. Not even to the Dark Lord. As far as she knew, he had never once spoken those two words.</p>
<p>Eyes wide, she held still, hardly breathing as he moved down to kiss her swollen cheek. </p>
<p>"I'm sorry," he whispered again.</p>
<p>He moved along her jaw to the point of her chin and set another kiss over the mark left from the jagged tear she'd made with his ring. "I'm sorry."</p>
<p>She could feel him shaking. Hermione caught his mouth, kissing him gently, murmuring love and comfort to him.</p>
<p>There was one more injury she needed him to comfort in return, and Hermione shifted, tugging the loose gown up, moving her leg to expose the lines cut into it. A flash of anger crossed Draco's face as he looked at her thigh. "They didn't heal you?"</p>
<p>"I didn't want—I wanted <em>you</em> to be the next person who touched me. I made them leave it until I could see you, because I wanted—I needed." She felt a tear drop out of her eye; Draco kissed it off her skin before it could slip down her cheek. Hermione took a deep breath. "I needed you to erase it."</p>
<p>Draco swallowed hard. Lifting his arm up and over her, he touched his fingers to his mouth, then curled his hand around her inner thigh, his palm covering the cuts Geoffrey had made. His voice thickened. "I'm so sorry, my love. I'll never be able to make it up to you."</p>
<p>Draco closed his eyes, head falling back to the pillow behind him. His jaw tightened and his throat bobbed for a few moments before he finally spoke. "I'm sorry you were hurt. That I wasn't there fast enough to stop it. I love you. And none of that is enough to say. I can't— I don't have the ability to tell you how much— <em>What</em> I feel."</p>
<p>"You already have." Hermione took his hand and held it on his chest. She curled against him, listening to his heartbeat triple-tapping under her ear. "Just by saying that, you already have, Draco."</p><hr/>
<p>After some time of holding Hermione and gently stroking her hair, Draco realized that she had fallen asleep. He smiled and kissed the top of her hair before reaching up to press the call button over the bed. </p>
<p>Instead of the Mediwitch Draco had expected, Harry came through the door, Pansy half a pace behind him. </p>
<p>"Dar—" Pansy clapped her hands over her mouth when Hermione stirred, then lowered her voice. "Darling. Oh, Draco." She leaned over the side of the bed and kissed Draco's temple, sniffling back tears. </p>
<p>"I'm all right, Parks," Draco said quietly. He glanced over her shoulder at Harry. "But I need a hand getting her into the other bed because I expect I'm about to get questioned."</p>
<p>Harry shook his head. He put his arm around Pansy, supporting her as she gathered herself. "Not today, Malfoy. Maybe not for several days."</p>
<p>"Policy is to question a witness or victim as close to the incident as possible. Keep the details fresh and clear, no time for—" Draco gave a short, bitter laugh. "No. You don't have to worry about my memory fading, do you? Doesn't matter how long you wait. I'll know the details exactly."</p>
<p>Harry shrugged. "Basically."</p>
<p>Draco wrapped one of Hermione's curls around his finger, looking down at her. "And her?"</p>
<p>"Victim's rights act, 5-8J3."</p>
<p>Draco closed his eyes. "Seriously? You honestly think the magistrate would accept a Pensieve contribution in lieu of direct testimony?"</p>
<p>"From Hermione Granger? Guaranteed." Harry gave a too-casual shrug. "Not that it's a big worry in any case. Since the suspect is dead, there won't be a trial. Reports and debriefing, and that all can wait until you're back on the job. You're still on three weeks holiday leave, officially."</p>
<p>Fingers trembling, Pansy gently moved a lock of Hermione's hair off her face. "And you're going to use every bit of it, Draco Lucius Malfoy. You both need to rest. Recover. If you don't disappear her into the Manor for at least a week, I'll be more upset than I am now. And I won't try to describe how distraught Blaise is. He shouted at me through the Floo, as if I could have stopped you. Your next tattoo session is going to be rough."</p>
<p>"I'll expect him to ink 'you're an idiot' across my forehead." Draco's shoulder ached when he instinctively tried to lift his arm. He relaxed, swearing under his breath. "Parks, take this damned sling off me."</p>
<p>She widened her eyes, blinking innocently at him. "What? I didn't even get to tell you how strong you were being and how mean the Gryffindors were to you."</p>
<p>Harry snorted, his face turning red. "Sorry, 'scuse me. Something in my throat." He coughed several times, grinning when Draco flipped him off behind Hermione's back.</p>
<p>"Ask Cotterill for one of her lozenges," Draco muttered. "Apparently they're just the thing for fake coughs."</p>
<p>Harry ruffled his fringe. "Speaking of Cotterill. And Choudhury. And the rest of squad seven. All of three, most of eight, and at least one representative from every other squad. They've taken over the lounge down the corridor."</p>
<p>Draco blinked. He tried to speak but his throat felt tight. He swallowed around a lump he didn't quite understand. "What?"</p>
<p>Harry gave a small smile. "MLE is practically empty right now, Malfoy. Half the Aurors are waiting for updates on you and Hermione."</p>
<p>"I keep telling you." </p>
<p>Draco glanced from Harry to Pansy, all three confused as to who had spoken, before Hermione stirred and sat up next to Draco. He kept his hand against her back, balancing her. </p>
<p>She brushed her hair back with a yawn. "I keep telling you," she said again, stretching up to kiss his chin. "You're a good man, Draco. There are always going to be people who hate you for what you were, but there are far, far more people who care about you for who you <em>are</em>. The Aurors stand with you. Pansy, Blaise, Harry—they stand with you. And I'll stand beside you."</p>
<p>"She's right." Harry said. "Do you think the squad would have come running to bust you out of that inquiry if we didn't stand with you? Or that lounge would be overflowing with Aurors? We're on your side." </p>
<p>He pointed to Draco's left arm, at the faded Dark Mark. "They let you fall on your own. But we'll hold you up. You have people in your corner, Malfoy. Lots of them. Colleagues, friends, best friends. And that's not even beginning to talk about Hermione there."</p>
<p>Draco nodded, not looking at Harry's face. He looked at Hermione instead, deep into her gold-flecked eyes. </p>
<p>She smiled at him. "I told you. I love you and you're not getting rid of me. You're on my list. A list of one. As long as you want me." She curled her hand over his Dark Mark, covering it with her touch. "We'll stand together, no matter what happens, Draco. You're never going to be alone again."</p>
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